Bon Voyage
by Sarahbob
Summary: Who would even think for a second that he's using? That he has been using for months now? That he needs his daily fix in order to get up in the morning? That he needs another two pills just to make it through the day? And another one to fall asleep at night? No one knows. No one knows... until they do.
1. Chapter 1

_He's falling and there is nobody there to catch him. He's falling and there is only one thing that can help him. He's falling and he's reaching. He's falling._

 _He's falling._

Enjolras looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. He stares himself directly in the eyes and hopes that there's some part of him strong enough to make this stop. To make this all stop. But his hands are moving on their own accord. They find the bottle, hidden beneath a pile of towels in the bathroom cabinet. His fingers pry the lid open and he's reaching. One pill. Then two. He swallows them dry as he keeps looking at himself in the mirror. He hates this. Hates what he has become. Hates what he needs to feel normal again. He is weak and no matter what he tells himself, he knows it's the truth. He's weak.

 _It's a secret._

Nobody knows what Enjolras is doing to himself. Nobody suspects. Because Enjolras is perfect. He's the man with the words, always optimistic, always fighting for a better world. Who would even think for a second that he's using? That he has been using for months now? That he needs his daily fix in order to get up in the morning? That he needs another two pills just to make it through the day? And another one to fall asleep at night? No one knows. And no one suspects. It's better that way, Enjolras thinks. If they'd know, they'd see what a failure he actually is.

 _Weak. Addicted. A junk._

Enjolras shivers as the words fly around in his head. He knows it's the truth. Has known it for months now, but though his mind wants to change the way things are, he's just not strong enough. The words are not strong enough. Because every day, Enjolras tells him that this pill is going to be the last. Tomorrow he'll stop and get better. This pill is going to be the last. And then the last. And then the last. And then… And then a month has passed and he's taking more pills than ever before. But this one is really going to be the last. Promised.

 _He takes another pill._

It all started a few months ago. Things hadn't been alright. He was fighting with his parents; his father had threatened to cut him off; he'd been fighting with Grantaire; He'd been failing his classes because his internship took too much time out of his life. Things hadn't been going well, but Enjolras ploughed on. He ate, he slept and he worked. He made sure to keep on smiling. People didn't need to know what was going on behind the mask. He was good at hiding things, always had been. Even Combeferre and Courfeyrac hadn't noticed his mood changing.

Then the accident happened and Enjolras spent a month in the hospital. It was there that he discovered the advantages of painkillers. The morphine didn't just take the physical pain away. It made all pain go away. And it been so long since Enjolras felt carefree, happy. It was a feeling he never wanted to lose. What harm was there in using the strength of his words and his looks to trick the nurses in giving him another dose? What harm was there in faking afterpains after his surgery? What harm was there in paying a little money to get his hands on some effective painpills? What harm was there, as long as they helped him feel better? What harm was there, as long as they helped him function?

Enjolras scoffs at himself in the mirror. He knows damn well what the harm is. He can't fool himself and he knows that. It has nothing to do with pain. It has nothing to do with feeling better. It has everything to do with weakness and fear. He's lying to everyone around him. And he's lying to himself. He's still living with a mask, only now it's a different one. He feels guilty, all the time. Guilty for lying about how he's feeling. Guilty for ruining his life, because this will never end well. One way or another, this is going to ruin him. He needs the painkillers now to keep up his charade. He needs them to get through a normal day. He needs more to get through a difficult day.

 _He needs more. Every time, he needs more._

Hands that no longer tremble, put the bottle away. Fingers that no longer shake hide the pills beneath the pile of towels. Enjolras stares at himself in the mirror for another moment and then takes a deep breath. He feels better already. The guilt ebbs away. The bad feelings are shut out. He's okay. For now, he's alright. This pill is going to be the last. He promises. It's the last one.

Enjolras pulls a hand through his blonde locks and steps out of the bathroom.

A look at the clock tells him he's supposed to meet Combeferre in an hour. That means he has more than enough time to freshen up, get dressed and make sure the mask is put good in place. He'll be okay. He's fine.

* * *

Grantaire drags himself out of bed around two in the afternoon. Every muscle in his body screams at him not to get up, but he pushes past it and shuffles towards the bathroom. He figured it'd always feel good to wake up without a hangover. He thought that once he got through the withdrawal, he'd feel fresh and reborn, but that hasn't been the case. Not once. He still has a long way to go and he knows it.

It's been six months since he took his last drink. It hasn't been easy. To tell the truth, it had extremely difficult and Grantaire was sure he'd went through hell. But his friends were there every step of the way and they supported him at all times. Without them and without his therapist, Grantaire was sure he'd never been able to do it. It was still tough at times and Grantaire still longed for a drink every now and then, but he had learned enough discipline to keep himself in check.

"R, get your ass up, you're going to be late for your therapy session today!"

Grantaire groaned. Joly and Bossuet had been wonderful to him, but they were so strict and they never cut him any slack. He hadn't missed a session once. Even when he was sick an near vomiting, Joly drove him to the clinic so he didn't miss his talk with the psychologist. He supposes he should be thankful… And he is. But sometime they are a true pain in the ass. Especially when the day already starts rotten and is probably only going to get worse along the way.

Yesterday he got into a fight with Enjolras. That in itself shouldn't be anything new, but after he'd quit drinking, he and Enjolras had gotten along really well. They still argued, but there wasn't as much heat behind the words as there used to be. Grantaire even got the feeling that Enjolras listened to him sometimes. That he was of some worth to the discussions. It was a nice feeling and lately Grantaire always tried to keep his counter arguments to the point without scoffing or mocking.

It had worked. He and Enjolras had gotten a lot closer over the past six months. Especially after Enjolras got into a car accident and had to spend a whole month in the hospital. Grantaire had been one of the few people who was able to visit the man at every single visiting hour. He was just always there. And somehow, both he and Enjolras learned they had a lot in common and they became friends. Close friends.

However, Grantaire never had the priviledge in earning Enjolras' trust the way Combeferre or Courfeyrac had. That's why he thought it so strange that both men hadn't noticed anything different about Enjolras. To Grantaire – who had observed the blonde man ever since he met him, it was all to clear that something was going on. He'd tried to talk about it to his friends, but they just brushed it off like it was nothing. And maybe it wasn't. Maybe Grantaire was seeing things that weren't there. That could be it, were it not for Enjolras' extreme reaction the other day when Grantaire voiced his concerns. The man had exploded without reason and Grantaire was certain then, that something was up. And he was determined to find out what it was.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way," Grantaire grumbled when Joly called out a second time. He took a shower, got dressed and followed his friend out and to the car. Of course he was able to drive himself, but a few months ago, he'd skipped out on a meeting because he wasn't in the mood. He nearly slipped up that same evening. Joly refused to have that happen again and so he was the one to drive Grantaire from then on. Even though he was sure that something like that wouldn't happen again, Grantaire figured it was easier to just let Joly do what made him feel better.

"Joly, do you mind dropping me off at the Musain after you come pick me up? I know you'd rather not have me spend time there on my own, but I need a couple of moments away from you two, no offense, and I'm sure Enjolras will already be there so he can keep an eye on me. Please?"

It takes another few moments to convince Joly, but in the end the man agreed as long as he was certain Enjolras was there as well. Grantaire felt relieved. He knew that Enjolras probably wasn't looking forward to seeing him, but he didn't care. There was something wrong and he'd rather die first before he'd let Enjolras slip away from him again. They'd become friends for a reason and for the first time in his life, Grantaire felt like he could mean something to the other. Something of significance.

There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him he knew exactly what was wrong with Enjolras but he refused to believe that. Even though the symptoms seemed to match, it was just too ridiculous to be true. Certainly, it wouldn't have gone past Combeferre and Courfeyrac. There was just no way…

No, Grantaire would go about this carefully, without jumping to conclusions. He didn't want Enjolras mad at him. So he'd start by apologizing for whatever he'd done wrong yesterday night. Maybe Enjolras had a logical explanation. Maybe he didn't. Grantaire would just wait and see. But one thing was certain. He would keep a close eye on Enjolras. A very close eye. He wasn't going to lose the man. Not now, not ever.

TBC.

 _(I'm not yet sure if I want to continue this, but it's an idea I've been playing with in my head and I wanted to give it a go. Please let me know if you liked it. Thanks!)_


	2. Chapter 2

_(Hope it's still likable!)_

"So, how have you been?" Combeferre asked him once they were seated in the Musain, cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of them. "It's been such a busy time lately and I feel like I haven't spoken to you properly in weeks."

Enjolras smiled and took a sip of his coffee. It was true, it had been a busy time. So busy that Combeferre hadn't even noticed his friend smuggling pills using prescriptions with his autograph. Enjolras felt guilty for betraying his friend like that, but he needed the pills to function and Combeferre would never let him take them if he knew about it.

"I've been… okay," Enjolras said, nodding. It's been a while since he and Combeferre sat down together to talk, or have lunch. His friend had put his entire life on hold when the accident happened, even stayed at Enjolras' apartment for two whole weeks, until Enjolras urged him to get back to his life before he'd get behind. It hadn't been easy and his best friend was reluctant, but Combeferre had missed so much already that if he ever wanted to catch up with all his work and studies, he had to agree with Enjolras. Since then, Combeferre had been drowning in his work and there was hardly ever time for anything more than a phonecall or text message. Enjolras missed his friend terribly, but he didn't want Combeferre to stop living his own life.

"Okay?" Combeferre questioned, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Come on, E… I've seen you lie better than that… Really, how are you feeling? Is the pain gone entirely? Are you managing everything at work with the internship? Just because it's been a while since we did this doesn't mean I ever stop worrying. You know that."

Enjolras let out a low chuckle and averted his eyes. If only Combeferre knew. His hand ghosted over the two pills in his pocket, ready to use once the others had worked their magic. "It's… okay, really. I don't have a better word to use. It's hard sometimes, you know. I've missed a lot and it's a miracle that Lamarque even allowed me to finish the internship after so much time gone, but it's going okay. The pain is basically gone… I only feel it when I haven't rested in a while and move the wrong way, but I can handle it. Doctor says I'm doing good too, so really… Nothing to worry about."

He smiled at his friend, putting up a perfect mask. His whole life consisted of lies nowadays. It was exhausting to keep up with it… to make sure no one knew what was really going on. Every lie that he told had to be solid, without any holes. He made sure to tell everyone the same lie, no loose strings.

He hadn't been to his doctor's appointments in weeks. Once he was released from the hospital, he just kept swallowing the pills, but he never returned to get a check-up. And his internship at Lamarque's office? He hadn't been there at all since the accident. He'd quit basically two weeks after he got released. All he did was sit at home and write. He wrote speeches, blogs, articles, essays… Most things he never let anyone read.

"Hmm," Combeferre retorted, taking a bite of his sandwich. There was something in his eyes that told Enjolras he didn't fully believe the story he'd been told. But the man didn't push, for which Enjolras was grateful. "I guess that's good news then. I have to admit I haven't been feeling all too comfortable the past few weeks with you at home alone. I mean, not that I don't think you can take care of yourself, but the accident took quite a toll on your life and I just want to be there for you. Help you wherever you need."

"I know that, 'Ferre… but I'm okay, really. You shouldn't have to put your life on hold just to help me get to the bathroom, or the kitchen or whatever… I'm okay, I promise. It was a good decision to move back home and get back to work." Enjolras reached across the table and briefly squeezed Combeferre's wrist to emphasize his words. "Promise."

It seemed to sooth his friend's concerns. Combeferre smiled back at him and nodded. "Alright then… Alright. Just… I want you to know that I'm never too busy for you. If you ever need anything, or just want to talk… I'm there."

Enjolras heart clenched and he felt the lump in his throat grow. If only Combeferre knew how much he needed his friend's help. If only Enjolras was brave enough to ask him. But he wasn't and he forced that horrible, fake smile back on his face. "I know that. Thanks 'Ferre…"

They ate the rest of their lunch like they always did, discussing ideas and possibilities for their next activity. Enjolras was happy to let Combeferre talk and tell him all about the bake sale he and Courfeyrac were organizing. All he had to do was nod along and give a few tips or comments now and then. Inside his head, he was screaming for help. Screaming louder and louder as the pills in his pocket got hotter and screamed for attention. He let his hands sink under the table to hide the persistent shaking of his fingers, clenching them into fists when the pain got too bad. He needed another fix. It had been four hours now since he took the first two and he needed the second two. The first time he started taking the pills, he only needed two to last the day. Now he took seven or eight.

He smiled at Combeferre when the man asked him why he was shifting in his seat so much and excused himself to go to the bathroom. It was the perfect opportunity. Once he made it to the tiny stall, he locked the door behind him and fished the two pills out of his pocket. He stared at them for a moment, briefly wondering if he should really do this. Then he swallowed them dry. Enjolras closed his eyes and let himself fall back against the door of the bathroom stall. What was he doing? Behind his eyelids, he could feel the tears start to form and he clenched his jaw to keep them from falling. Not now. Not today.

A sharp sound brought his attention back to the world. With a slightly trembling hand he dug his phone out of his pocket and he stared at the screen. It was Grantaire. The cynic was the last person he wanted to talk to at this point. They had gotten into a fight the other night, because Grantaire was asking too many questions. Too many questions that Enjolras couldn't answer and so he had lashed out at the man. It wasn't fair, of course. Especially since Grantaire had been there in so many ways for him while he was at the hospital. They even grew quite close.

Enjolras let out a deep sigh and then answered. "Grantaire… No, I'm at the Musain right now, me and 'Ferre are having lunch why?" He listened as his friend explained the situation where he wanted to go out and clear his mind but Joly wasn't comfortable enough to leave him alone, so the question was if Enjolras was going to stay there so they could hang out together.

Enjolras wasn't in the mood for it. Going out to have lunch with Combeferre and lie to him was already hard enough. Now he was going to have to spend time with Grantaire as well? With whom he had a fight only yesterday because the man was prodding too much? Still though… Enjolras didn't want to leave Grantaire hanging. He was so proud of his friend for being strong and quit drinking. He wanted to support him… At least one of them was strong.

"Ehm, okay, yeah sure, I'll stay here. Lamarque gave me the rest of the day off anyway, so… I guess I'll just get some work done here then, if that's alright with you… Okay… yeah sure… See you later, R. Bye."

* * *

Grantaire sighed as he hung up the phone. It was clear from Enjolras' tone of voice that the man wasn't looking forward to spending time with him after their fight yesterday. Still though, the man was too kind to turn him down like that and Grantaire felt grateful. Of course he wasn't planning to go there just to hang out. He was only going to the Musain because he was worried about Enjolras and he wanted to know what the hell the man was up to.

His therapy session seemed to take forever and by the time Grantaire finally stepped outside of the building, it was already three in the afternoon. His therapist had kept him in a little longer, because he seemed to be absent during their session. Truth be told, Grantaire _was_ indeed absent, because he was worrying so much about Enjolras. He didn't want to listen to some stupid speech he'd heard a hundred of times already. Not when he had a friend in need of help. Even though that friend didn't realize he needed help yet.

With a sigh, he stepped inside of Joly's car and told the man to drive. Joly had been present when Grantaire called Enjolras and he knew that their leader had agreed to stay at the Musain with him. "Alright, bro," Grantaire said softly, watching his friend type out a quick message to whoever. "Anytime now. You promised to bring me to the Musain, now do that, alright. If we keep waiting any longer, Enjolras is going to leave again and then I can't go after all."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on, R. Be grateful I'm picking you up and dropping you off, alright?" Joly muttered, putting his phone away with a small blush.

"I am grateful. Even though I could've gone to the therapy and the Musain by myself. I am very grateful that you insist on taking me everywhere." Grantaire rolled his eyes and sank a little further in the passenger seat. He loved Joly for caring and he understood that the man was wary of letting him go everywhere himself, but Grantaire started to miss his independence.

Joly sent him an apologetic look. "You know it's for the best now, R… This won't be forever, I promise."

Grantaire sighed, nodding his head. He knew Joly was right. After his relapse of a couple of months ago, it was only logical that his friends took the necessary precautions. He couldn't blame them, he'd probably have done the same thing if it happened to any of his friends. "I know, Jol… I'm sorry… It's just, a little exhausting sometimes. But I know why you do it and I appreciate you looking out for me like that. Honestly."

They spent the rest of the car drive in relative silence. When they arrived at the Musain, Grantaire thanked Joly for the ride and promised him he'd be home before dinner. He'd ask Enjolras if the man could take him home and if he couldn't, then he'd call Joly or Bossuet. Grantaire made his promises and tried not to roll his eyes. He hated being this dependent on his friends. That alone was motivation enough to make sure he'd never fall back again.

Grantaire waved his goodbye and walked inside of the Musain. The familiar smell of fresh coffee and baked goods warmed his heart and he smiled. Since he'd stopped drinking and spent his days begin sober, he was able to enjoy so much more. The little things usually passed by him and he never gave them much attention. But now they amazed him.

* * *

He took a moment, just taking the smell in and then looked around the room. As expected, he couldn't find Enjolras downstairs, which meant his friend was probably already in the backroom, preparing for the meeting of tonight. Grantaire shook his head. It was only three in the afternoon. The Amis wouldn't meet for another six hours. He wondered if Enjolras ever took some time off to relax. Ever since the accident, all his friend seemed to do was drown himself in work and his causes. Truth be told, Enjolras was always a workaholic, but it had never been as bad as it was now. That, combined with the shaking fingers, the casual confusion and the different behaviour, had Grantaire worried.

He walked up the stairs and as expected, Enjolras was occupying a corner of the room. The table he sat at was covered in papers, one soaking wet due to a coffee spilled. Enjolras didn't even seem to notice as he was writing fervently on a paper. His friend didn't look up when Grantaire called his name; didn't stop what he was doing when Grantaire stood right beside him.

Grantaire frowned, placing a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. The blonde man jumped and turned around, eyes wide and pupils dilated. "Jesus Christ, E," Grantaire said softly, squeezing the man's shoulder before sitting down opposite of him. "What's got you so hopped up? You didn't even notice me coming in? I called you like two times… Are you alright?"

Enjolras' heart was in his throat as he looked up at his friend. He blew out a soft breath, listening to Grantaire talk. He hadn't heard his friend come in, not at all. He hadn't heard him calling and he only realized he was there when the man placed a hand on his shoulder. He pulled a hand over his face, hoping to hide the stress and replace it with a smile.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine, I was just working… Guess I got a little caught up in it, sorry." Then his eyes fell on the soaked paper and he groaned. He'd just written that page. How had he not noticed that he spilled his coffee? He reached out and took the paper from under the coffee cup. "Damnit, I needed this for the speech tonight," he mumbled.

Grantaire drew his eyebrows closer together the longer he watched Enjolras. His friend had spilled a coffee over one of his speech papers and he hadn't even noticed? That was so far from normal, Grantaire felt his stomach clench further in worry. He leaned forward, placing one hand on top of Enjolras', hoping to get his attention. He tried a little smile when it worked and his friend looked up at him. "Hey.. uhm, E… Are you-uh… Are you sure you're alright?"

Enjolras pressed his lips firmly together, settling Grantaire with one of his glares. They'd had this discussion yesterday and it hadn't ended well. He liked Grantaire, saw him as one of his closest friend, but the man needed to know when to stop pushing. "I'm fine," he said shortly.

Grantaire nodded, looking down at the table top. "Yeah… but, you see, you're spilling coffee over important papers and your hands… I can feel your hands shake and I-"

"I told you I'm fine, Grantaire," Enjolras snapped, pulling his hand away from under Grantaire's. "We've had this discussion yesterday. Nothing has changed since then. Stop meddling in my business, there is nothing for you to worry about."

"But…" Grantaire tried.

"I'm drowning in work, alright. I haven't slept well and my head aches, if you have to know. I'm just distracted, that's all. I don't need you to provoke me on top of that. I thought we were passed that."

Enjolras huffed angrily. He really wasn't in the mood for Grantaire's prodding. After his lunch with Combeferre, Enjolras had agreed to stay at the Musain for the man's sake, but he hadn't realized that he'd only brought enough pills to make it through his lunch with Combeferre. Now he didn't have anything with him and he needed it. He was hurting, his fingers started to shake and he knew what was coming next. If he didn't get his next fix, his friend's would be carrying his ass back to the hospital by tonight. Enjolras couldn't let that happen. What would they say? What would they think of him? He'd lose every credibility he had. He needed to find a way to get home before the meeting started.

"I'm not trying to provoke you," Grantaire said quietly, biting his lip. Was that really what Enjolras thought? "I'm just… you know what, never mind. If you say you're fine, then you're fine. Just-uh… You've always been there for me the past six months and I guess… I just want you to know that I'd always return the favor should you ever need it."

Grantaire didn't say the exact words, but Enjolras knew exactly what he was aiming at. Hi stomach dropped and he clenched his hands into fists. It took all his self control to remain calm. If he exploded now, he'd only prove Grantaire right and that was the opposite of what he wanted. Because if Grantaire found out that he was taking the pills he'd tell Combeferre and if 'Ferre knew, Enjolras didn't know what would happen.

"Great, thanks." Enjolras said shortly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes like a childish teenager. "Now, have you come here to push my buttons, or do you want to hang out like we agreed to? You've arrived a little later than I expected, so I'm afraid I only have an hour left. I need to go home before the meeting starts."

Grantaire offered Enjolras a sad smile, but didn't say any more on the topic. Enjolras wasn't ready to talk. Which was fine, Grantaire wasn't going to push. Not when he wasn't even entirely sure what was going on with his friend. But he swore to himself, then and there, that he'd keep a close eye on the man. If he caught but a swift of what he feared, he'd make sure to step up.

"Sure, that's fine. I can help you with your speeches, if you want? First let me send a quick text to Joly that he'll have to come pick me up in an hour, alright? Then I'll go get us some drinks."

TBC.


	3. Chapter 3

( _I want to thank everyone for the favorites, follows and comments on this story. Means a lot and it keeps me motivated!_ )

* * *

By the time he got home, Enjolras felt close to passing out. His whole body shook and he was sweating hot and cold at the same time. It was a miracle he could keep himself upright until Joly came to pick Grantaire up from the Café. Enjolras wasn't a fool though. He knew Grantaire had noticed him feeling worse and worse as the minutes ticked by, but his friend was kind enough not to make any more comments. Not after Enjolras had asked him to keep well enough alone and stop bothering him with futile questions that weren't his business. A part of him wished Grantaire had kept pushing. Push and push until Enjolras broke and spilled his secret. At least then he'd get the help he desperately needed. But he was still too proud, too stubborn. And most of all, he was too ashamed of what he'd become.

He closed the door behind him and took a moment to get a grip on himself. He chose this path and now he had to follow through. There was no way back, because going back, meant he had to tell people what he did and that wasn't an option. His friends couldn't know. They'd be so disappointed and Enjolras didn't think he could bear it. He was already a disappointment in his own eyes; it was too much to know how much of a letdown his friends thought he was.

A quick glance at the clock told him he still had a couple of hours to get ready until he had to be at the meeting. As if in slow motion, he dragged his tired body towards the bathroom and dug the small bottle of pills from under the towels. Then he sank down to the floor, holding the bottle in both of his hands, and started crying. His whole body shook from the sobs that tore through his throat and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't stop. It didn't take long before the heavy crying brought him to his knees in front of the toilet bowl; throwing up the lunch he had that afternoon. Everything hurt. Every muscle, every nerve, every beat of his heart.

Enjolras knew he was complete failure. And there was no one to blame but himself. He had made his own choices. He had laid this path down himself and there was no one else he could pin this on. He didn't even want to do so. It wouldn't be right. Besides, who would believe him? It soon would be clear for everyone to see what kind of person he was. A liar, a cheater, a fraud. Maybe they didn't see it yet, but it was only a matter of time. Grantaire was already suspecting something was wrong and he'd go to Combeferre or Courfeyrac for sure. And once either of them started prodding, Enjolras was certain he would break. He would push them away, like he pushed Grantaire away and he would lose everything he had.

Trembling hands rubbed at his eyes and he kept wiping the tears away until they stopped falling altogether. He scanned the little bathroom in search of the bottle of pills that he had dropped to the floor when he got sick. He crawled his way over there and took the lid off the bottle, pouring a generous amount of pills in his hand. For a split second, he wondered what would happen if he'd just take them all at once. Just take them and let it all end. Let it all be over. He wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. He wouldn't have to see how much further he could fall. He wouldn't have to see how his friends turned him down, because they didn't want to deal with a junkie. _A junkie._ The thought only lasted for a split second, but it was long enough for Enjolras to start crying again. He had never thought like that before. And the fact that it almost sounded inviting scared the hell out of him. He wasn't like that. He didn't think like that.

At least… He didn't used to.

Swallowing hard, Enjolras took two pills from the pile he was holding and poured the rest back into the bottle. He wasn't that far gone yet. He wouldn't do anything stupid. He couldn't. He still had his meetings, his causes. He still had his will to change _something_. And as long as he couldn't change himself, then at least he could fight for others. He still had that strength left and he would use it for as long as he could. Enjolras nodded to himself as he put the lid back on the bottle and hid his secret back beneath the towels. All he had to do now was take the pills in his hands and he'd be alright again. He'd feel fine again, strong and confident. He only needed to take the pills and no one would know something was wrong.

Enjolras filled a glass with water and swallowed his secret. All he had to do now was wait. Wait until the shaking stopped, until the sweating stopped, until the pain stopped. It wouldn't be long. It never took long.

* * *

When Grantaire returned home, he went straight to his bedroom, announcing to both his Joly and Bossuet that he wasn't hungry, because he had already eaten at the Café. It wasn't a total lie – he did eat a giant muffin – but the real reason why he didn't want to eat was because he felt too sick to do so. He was so worried about Enjolras, it had literally made him sick to his stomach and he feared that if he tried to eat something, it would just come right back out again. It was a miracle the muffin had stayed put until then.

Grantaire had tried to act normal that afternoon. After Enjolras asked him to stop prodding, he'd tried to listen and just be a friend. He'd helped Enjolras with a couple of slogans and he even drew a quick sketch to go with one of the pamphlets. But the longer he sat there, the more obvious it was that there was something wrong. Enjolras was already jumpy when Grantaire arrived at Café, but after little more than an hour, his friend was shaking like a leaf and sweating as if he was stuck in a sauna. And no matter how much he had tried to hide it, Grantaire wasn't a fool. Either Enjolras was suddenly coming down with the flu or he was showing severe signs of withdrawal. And Grantaire was 90% sure it was the latter, though it broke his heart to even think it.

He knew that he couldn't just let this go on. He needed to do something. Enjolras needed help, but it was clear that he wasn't going to ask for it himself. Not yet, anyway. That meant that Grantaire needed to think of something – _anything_ – to make this whole thing end. But he didn't want to lose Enjolras in the process. He had just started to get close to the man and their friendship meant so much to him, he didn't know what he would do should he lose it again. Enjolras' friendship was one of the main reasons that kept him on the right path nowadays. Grantaire knew it wasn't really healthy to hang all his progress up on the fact that one man liked him, but it was the truth. And if Grantaire kept prodding, Enjolras would surely end their friendship and what would happen to him then? What if he fell back in his old ways?

It was a selfish thought, but it kept roaming around in Grantaire's mind. Still though, he couldn't let this go on. If his suspicions were right – and he was fairly sure that they were – Enjolras was ruining his own life. If he was right, Enjolras was going down a destructive path that Grantaire knew all too well and he hated for their leader to go through the same thing. Enjolras didn't deserve that. And Grantaire wondered what in God's name must've happened that led his friend down that path in the first place. Enjolras was always optimistic, always healthy. Sure, he didn't eat that well and maybe he slept far too little, but he stayed away from unhealthy habits like drinking, blowing or smoking. He'd always been very unhappy with Grantaire's old weakness and he never shied away from telling him so. There was just no way that Enjolras would ruin his own life, his own body, that way. So if Grantaire was right, and his friend was on to something now, that something must've happened. Something bad. And their entire group had failed to notice.

Sighing, Grantaire fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contact list. Without knowing what he was about to do, he selected Combeferre's number and brought the phone to his ear. He didn't have to tell the man anything yet, but he could at least talk to him and try to find out if Combeferre knew anything about Enjolras that Grantaire didn't. He was Enjolras' best friend, after all.

"Hi 'Ferre," Grantaire said softly in greeting when someone at the other end of the line picked up. He wondered if he'd called the man at a bad moment, hearing the shuffling of papers and the silent curse. "Everything alright? 'M I calling at a bad time?"

"R, hi, no, it's fine… it's just…" came Combeferre's voice, and yeah, the man was definitely distracted. "Something at work, don't worry about it. What's up?"

Grantaire frowned and sat up a little straighter. Growing closer to Enjolras evidently meant he'd also grown closer to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Those three were like a packaged deal. And Grantaire was already good friends with the two C's, but his frequent presence at the hospital after Enjolras' accident had only made their friendship grow. That's why it worried him when Combeferre sounded this distraught, especially when it was work related. Combeferre loved his job and the doctors that supervised the last stage of his internship loved him too. The last thing Grantaire wanted to do was make Combeferre worry about Enjolras when he was already stressed out.

"Nothing important… just-uh, just wanted to chat. Did something happen at work? Want to talk about it?"

Combeferre let out a sigh and something close to a miserable groan. He never sounded so defeated and Grantaire was definitely worried now. "No… I… I don't understand… I-…" And that's when Combeferre's voice broke. "I've been suspended because they think that I've been prescribing Oxy to patients at an unreasonable pace, but it's not true! I haven't prescribed Oxy to anyone… except a few who had surgery and were dealing with after pains… But they showed me the prescriptions and it's my signature and I just… I don't understand… This could cost me my job… R, they think I'm a fucking _drug dealer._ "

A dark feeling settled in the pit of Grantaire's stomach and he had a hard time to breathe. It couldn't be… It _couldn't_ be.

"Jesus, 'Ferre," Grantaire said softly, "How the hell is that even possible? They know you! They can't do that without real evidence, right? I mean, those signatures are obviously fake, they have to be. There must be some way to prove that, right? They can't just fire you like that."

There came another sigh from the other end of the line. "I don't know, R… I just-… I honestly don't understand what's happening…" Combeferre muttered, sounding close to tears. "Listen… I-uh… I just need to think for a bit, yeah? I'll see you tonight at the meeting… We can-uhm… We can talk about it then. I suppose I need to tell the others anyway."

Grantaire nodded. He understood that this was all very overwhelming to his friend and he didn't want to pry when Combeferre needed to figure things out for himself first. However, he wondered about one thing. "Have you told Enjolras yet?" he asked, realizing it was a stupid question and he should've kept it to himself, but it was too late now.

"What? Uhm, no, I just came home… I was about to call him when you called me. Why?"

Why. _Why?_ Well done, Grantaire. "Uhm, no… no reason. I just thought better to be safe, you know. I'm a blabbermouth and I don't want to blurt something like this out. It's your story to tell. Enjolras should hear it from you and now I know that I need to keep my mouth shut." _And think before I speak_ , he added quietly to himself.

"Bullshit, R. Why does it matter if I told Enjolras yet? What's up? You've been acting strange about him the past few weeks now, what the hell is going on between the two of you?"

Now it was Grantaire's turn to sigh and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell on Enjolras, right? On the other hand, he wanted help with this whole situation. He needed to help Enjolras. And this was the perfect opportunity. Apparently Combeferre had already noticed something was going on between him and Enjolras… Why not just voice his concerns? Maybe Combeferre could settle his worries. Or maybe not…. But maybe it was for the best if he stopped carrying this weight alone.

"Look, 'Ferre… I don't know anything for sure, alright…" Grantaire started quietly, feeling a lump start to form in his throat. "But… I've been quite worried about Enjolras for a while now and I started paying attention to how he's been acting lately… And… Well-… Everyone knows I'm not exactly a stranger to addictions and withdrawals…"

There was a silence and Grantaire could practically hear Combeferre think. "What are you saying?" his friend asked, apprehension clear in his voice.

"I'm saying… That I think I know who's been using your signature."

* * *

Enjolras hugged his knees a little closer to his chest as he stared at the clock, watching the minutes tick by. It had been three and a half hours since his last fix and he was already aching to take another pill. His hands clenched and unclenched at the sound of the seconds ticking away. He wasn't as bad off as that afternoon when he left Grantaire and the Café, but he knew it was already starting. The shaking… the sweating. It wouldn't be long before he was looking ill again and Enjolras was certain that he couldn't make it through the meeting without taking another pill first. Maybe he even needed two.

But he was very hesitant to do so, because if he took another fix, he'd up his total daily dose once again. If he took another two pills before the meeting, he'd be on a total of eight pills before he even went to sleep. Tears formed in his eyes and he sniffed quietly, hating himself for letting it come this far.

He only had half an hour left until he had to be at the Musain to lead the meeting. That meant that if he really wanted to do give his speech and be alright, he had to take another pill now, otherwise it wouldn't work it's magic in time. But Enjolras couldn't bring himself to walk to the bathroom again. He was too tired. Too tired, too exhausted to do anything but sit here and stare at that clock that was silently ticking his life away.

He couldn't go to the meeting today. He didn't have the strength and he lacked the energy. An afternoon with Combeferre and then Grantaire was just too much for him to handle. He couldn't bear the worried looks, the kind words, the offered help. He couldn't look his friends in they eyes, speaking about staying strong and helping others when he had hit rock bottom himself. He couldn't betray them like that. It was bad enough that he was lying to himself. He needed to stop lying to his friends. He needed to stop hurting his friends. He needed to stop making them worry.

But they couldn't know. They could never know what was going on, because then he would lose them. He would lose his friends, and he would lose his life, because who was going to believe in anything a junkie said? Who was prepared to follow his plans, when he couldn't even stay upright without needing a fix every four hours or so? Enjolras sure as hell wouldn't. He'd be the first one to step away and so he couldn't blame his friends if they'd do the same thing.

Another ten minutes passed by and Enjolras had still not moved from his position. It was too late to take a pill now. At least, if he wanted it to work before the meeting started. Slowly, he brought a hand up to his face and brushed the tears away with his fingers. Then he reached for his phone and typed out a quick group message before switching it off.

"Meeting's off."

TBC.

* * *

 _(There's that. Hope you liked it!)_


	4. Chapter 4

_(Thank you guys for the kind reviews! Here's another chapter. There may be some typos or grammar mistakes in here and I promise I will look it over soon, but I wanted to get this up already!)_

* * *

Combeferre couldn't believe what he Grantaire told him. It couldn't be true, it had to be a mistake. Grantaire was imagining things or he was just confused. Because it couldn't be true that Enjolras was addicted to something. And it definitely couldn't be true that his best friend had betrayed him by using his signature to get the drugs. Enjolras would never do something like that. Grantaire had to be mistaken. He _had_ to be.

But then why was there such a nagging feeling in the pit of Combeferre's stomach? Why was there a voice inside his head screaming at him to open his eyes? Telling him that _you knew something was wrong_ and _you should've confronted Enjolras more about his behaviour_. It was just that Combeferre had been drowning in his work and he couldn't handle anything other than the chaos in his own life right now. It was just easier to believe that his friend was alright when he told him he was. It was easier not to ask question when his concern was merely based on a hunch.

But now... Combeferre was scared. Terrified even. Because if it was true what Grantaire said, then that not only meant that his friend had downright lied to him, it also meant that he had broken his trust and was in serious danger of himself. If Grantaire was right, it meant Combeferre was a horrible friend for not noticing anything. If Grantaire was right, something had to change right now.

But Grantaire couldn't be right. Combeferre wouldn't believe it. Not until Enjolras himself came to him. He'd given his friend every opportunity to talk to him that afternoon and the man had promised him he was okay. Combeferre just had to trust on that. He had to trust Enjolras, because the friend he knew wouldn't lie to him about something like that. He would never, _ever_ , do anything to endanger Combeferre's job, because he knew how much that job meant to him.

And then the text message cam through. _Meeting's off_. Meeting. Is. Off. Ten minutes before it would even start, Enjolras cancelled their weekly gathering. Everyone was already there, at the Musain, except for Enjolras. And then the message came and sent everything to hell, because Enjolras never cancelled meetings. And if Enjolras suddenly decided to cancel meetings last minute, then maybe it was also possible that he swallowed more medicine than he should. Maybe it was also possible that he copied Combeferre's signature. Maybe… Maybe… _maybe._

Maybe Enjolras wasn't alright. Maybe he was so far from alright, it had passed a line that Combeferre had noticed. He brought a tired hand to his temples and pressed hard. His eyes sought out Grantaire in the room, who stared right back at him. They were the only two not discussing the fact that Enjolras had just cancelled their meeting. Amidst a loud complain and groans from their friends, who had made time to be here today, only Combeferre and Grantaire were silent.

"Enjolras never cancels meetings. And never at the last minute," Bahorel said, indignation clear in his voice. "We have exams this week and we still made the effort to come tonight, and now he cancels ten minutes prior? How is that fair!"

"Calm down, man," Courfeyrac said, smile still plastered on his face, though he looked worried. "If Enjolras cancels a meeting, something's up. It's like you said, he never cancels meetings. If he did now, that means he must've a good reason and I'm sure he'll tell us… If he'd just pick up the damn phone."

Jehan looked up at that, glancing from Courfeyrac to Combeferre and back again. "You mean you don't know why he cancelled? And you don't either, 'Ferre? Did something happen we should know about? Is it something at university?"

It was then that the room quieted down a bit and once it did, Combeferre looked up to see that everyone, including Courfeyrac, was staring at him. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "I don't know why he isn't here," he admitted quietly. "He already had his exams this week and I don't think there's anything going on at Lamarque's office… At least, he didn't tell me. He seemed okay this afternoon, we had lunch." Combeferre didn't mention that Grantaire had seen Enjolras as well, but out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the man shake his head.

"And R saw him this afternoon, too, right?" Joly said, turning towards the cynic in the corner, who ducked his head for a moment. He didn't want to sell Enjolras out, not like this. He didn't even know for sure what was going on and telling Combeferre about his thoughts was more than enough. He wouldn't do anything else yet, not until either Combeferre spoke to Enjolras or the man in question came tot hem for help. He wouldn't throw his friend under the bus, he wasn't that kind of person.

"Yeah, I helped him with a couple of brochures… He-uh… He seemed a bit jumpy to me, maybe he was coming down with something, I don't know." Grantaire's eyes found those of Combeferre again and he pleaded with his friend to go visit Enjolras, because this was way too fucking obvious after what he'd told the man on the phone earlier.

"Well, then let's get over there," Courfeyrac said, concern now clearly edged across his face. He phone is going straight to voicemail, that isn't like him. What if something's wrong? I have a spare key to his apartment, and so does 'Ferre. We'll see if he's okay. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time he was sick without telling any of us and that didn't end very well, now did it?"

Combeferre watched around the room to see that most of the Amis agreed with Courfeyrac to go over to Enjolras' place. And somehow, that lightened a protective spark within him. If something was really going on with his best friend, he didn't want everyone going over there and overwhelm him like that. Enjolras had always been a rather private man and he didn't appreciate it when people invaded his personal space without his consent. Going over there with the entire group would only make things worse.

"We're not all going over there, guys, come on." Combeferre spoke, calm but firm. "Maybe something's up, maybe it's nothing, but we can't all budge in there without an invitation. What if you were sick or there was something wrong and everyone was suddenly at your doorstep demanding what was wrong? I know we're all concerned and we all mean well, but that just won't do. I think it's best if one of us goes there."

"And by one of us, I think you mean you, right?" Courfeyrac said softly. There was no venom in the man's voice. Though the three of them were as tight as the tightest skinny jeans, everyone knew that Combeferre and Enjolras shared a bond on a deeper level. It was the same way with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Combeferre was just always the first person both men went to when something was wrong. And Combeferre had known Enjolras since he was a mere toddler. It seemed right if he was the one to go visit him.

"Yes, I mean me," Combeferre sighed, a small smile curling around his lips. His heart felt heavy and he was exhausted, but this was something he had to do. There were so many questions going on inside his head, so many doubts, he had to see for himself how Enjolras was doing. Besides, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to be at that point. He was suspended after all and he couldn't come back until further notice.

Courfeyrac nodded and walked up to Combeferre, wrapping the man in an embrace. "Make sure he's alright, yeah? I'm worried about him, he seems to be shutting us off more and more lately…" Courfeyrac whispered in his friend's ear. When he pulled back, he didn't miss the look of exasperation on Combeferre's face. This was the second time the medical student was told about Enjolras ' different behaviour and he hadn't even really noticed himself. Of all of his friends, he was closest to Enjolras, and yet he had failed to notice that something was up. Or had he ignored it, because he didn't want it to be true?

Combeferre didn't know. All he knew was that he was going to see Enjolras now and he'd make sure everything was fine. He'd show all the others, including Grantaire and Courfeyrac, that there was nothing to worry about. Enjolras probably just caught up in his work. Nothing serious. He waved his goodbye and walked down the stairs, two steps at a time. Once he was outside, he quickened his pace, suddenly desperate to be with his friend.

* * *

Enjolras lay curled up in a blanket on the couch, face turned to the TV but not really watching anything. He was staring at the screen with a glassy look in his eyes. His phone had been switched off the moment he cancelled the meeting. He knew that his friends would try to call him, knew they'd be pissed, but Enjolras couldn't make himself answer them. He needed to be alone. Alone with his thoughts and alone with his miserable body. He was shaking from head to toe and cold sweat trickled down his back and face. Enjolras knew it wouldn't be long until he'd start feeling sick. He knew it was only a matter of time before the headaches spiked and the world started spinning again. And once that happened, he knew it was time for him to have his next fix.

He could try to postpone it as long as he could. That was basically what he was doing now. His body and mind were aching for another dose, but right now, he still had the strength to keep himself in check. And as long as that strength was there, he would hold on to it. Even if it was only a matter of time until he caved. At least then he could still tell himself that he tried. The fact that he failed was less horrible that way.

Enjolras never cancelled meetings unless it was a necessity, which it never was. It only happened once that Combeferre made him cancel, because he was too sick to attend, but even then, Enjolras had been extremely reluctant. This time, there was no hesitation when he sent the text, even if it was only ten minutes prior. He wasn't in the mood for seeing his friends, he felt too exhausted and too sick to run a meeting and most importantly, he hadn't been able to get up from his position on the ground in time. It was only after he cancelled the meeting that a weight was lifted from his shoulders and he managed to carry himself from the ground to the couch. There he collapsed and he hadn't moved since.

He imagined how his friend would react. They'd be outraged that he cancelled the meeting at the last minute and now they'd definitely suspect that something was wrong. Especially Grantaire, who was already watching him like a hawk. There was no way he could hide from prying questions now, but he just needed tot hink of something to reassure everyone that all was fine. And he would do that, but he needed a little time. Because right now, his mind was far too foggy and his limbs too heavy. We wouldn't be able to come up with a good lie even if he tried.

The fact that his friends would come over and check up on him, never crossed his mind, which was that much proof of how much the drugs had affected his thoughts. So when the doorbell rang, Enjolras' heart jumped to his throat and he nearly fell down from the couch. He sat frozen in his spot, wide eyes fixed on the front door. Maybe if he stayed very quiet, they would think he wasn't home and they would just leave again.

"Enjolras? It's me…"

Enjolras closed his eyes, fighting against the tears that formed in his eyes. Of course it was Combeferre… Of course his friend would come over and find out what was wrong. His heart hammered inside his chest as he tried to think of what to do. He knew he looked a right mess and there was no way he was going to be able to fix that. Not unless he took the pills. And even then, he'd have to wait a good half hour before they worked their magic.

"I know you're home, E… Please, open up… I just want to know if you're okay."

Enjolras bit his lip and pulled a shaky hand through his curls. What was he going to do? He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. His mind was a complete mess, thoughts no longer coherent. He couldn't remember what he'd told Combeferre that afternoon and he couldn't remember what lies he told last week or the week before that. He needed the pills right now and _God why did he have to wait it out?_ He should've just taken them when he started to feel bad. What did he try to prove by waiting? Now he was a mess and Combeferre was here and what the hell was he going to do?

"You know I've got a spare key to your apartment, right? Please, just open the door so I can see you're not deadly ill in there? I'm just worried about you, mon Ami. It's not like you to cancel a meeting and definitely not with that short notice."

A spare key… Combeferre had a spare key to his apartment, which meant there was no way now he could pretend he wasn't at home. If Combeferre'd unlocked his door, he'd see he was at home, curled on the floor in a miserable, sweating little heap. Slowly, and with a strength he didn't know he possessed, he pushed himself off of the floor and walked towards the front door.

"Just a sec, 'Ferre," he called out, cursing the way his voice trembled. Shaking fingers unlocked the door and after taking a deep breath, he opened up. His eyes briefly sought out those of Combeferre, but Enjolras immediately looked away again. He was afraid that his friend could read the lies in his eyes. He was terrified that Combeferre only had to look at him to know what a complete disappointing failure he was.

"Jesus Christ, are you okay?" Combeferre asked, stepping forward to grab Enjolras by the shoulder and guide both of them inside. "You look horrible."

Enjolras felt a shiver run down his spine and he swallowed thickly. Maybe he could just play the sick part. He already looked sick enough… Surely, that alone served as a believable excuse for skipping the meeting and not answering his phone. Yes, Enjolras could do that. He could pretend he was sick.

"Gee, thanks," he murmured quietly in response to Combeferre's question. He tried to shake off his friend's hand, but his grip was too tight. "I think I'm coming down with something… probably the flu or something. That's why I cancelled the meeting and switched off my phone. I didn't want to be disturbed."

Combeferre frowned at him and there was something in his eyes that told Enjolras he didn't really believe him. Then, his friend pushed him further inside the apartment and sat him down at the kitchen table. "Why didn't you just tell us you felt under the weather?" he asked suspiciously, walking into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

Enjolras shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't want to worry you, I guess."

He frowned when Combeferre laughed at that. This wasn't going according to plan. Combeferre didn't buy it. Not really. He could see the doubt there, and the questions.

"And by not letting us know anything you thought you'd spare us the concern?" Combeferre asked, a small smile gracing his lips. "Honestly E, you should've known we'd panic… You never cancel a meeting… And definitely not at such short notice. At least give us an explanation."

"Well, I'm giving you a reason now, am I not?" Enjolras snapped, eyes flashing even though he knew he should try and remain calm. Getting angry and panicked wouldn't get him anywhere, especially not with Combeferre.

His best friend frowned and then took a seat opposite of him. He didn't speak for a moment, just watched his friend with narrowed eyes. Then he reached forward and placed a cool hand on Enjolras' forehead. "You're not running a fever," he said softly, more to himself than to his friend. "And you seemed fine this afternoon… Wha-"

"What's with the third degree 'Ferre?" Enjolras interrupted him, turning his head so he could move away from Combeferre's touch. "I'm telling you I don't feel alright, what the hell does it matter if I'm running a fever or not?"

Combeferre's eyebrows moved so far up that they almost disappeared behind his hair. "There is no need to get angry… I'm just concerned, that's all."

"Well, if I'm angry it's because you keep pushing me for answers even though I just told you why I cancelled the meeting and I don't need anyone prodding me for explanations when all I want to do is lie down and be alone. Why did you even have to come here? I would've called you if I needed you."

Enjolras was shaking like a leaf and he knew that most of the blood had drained from his face. He felt horrible. Hot and cold and the same time and the world was spinning dangerously fast. He cursed himself over and over again, because why did he have to get this angry? He was only making himself more suspicious and he _knew_ that. It was just the withdrawal that made him act like this. He needed the pills.

* * *

Combeferre, in the mean time, could feel his world shatter around him, because the longer he watched Enjolras, the more he realized that Grantaire was right. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. And it all pointed to one thing. When his best friend snapped at him without reason, Combeferre felt tears gather in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn't accuse Enjolras of anything yet. Not until he knew for sure. And he knew just how he could find out.

"You know… I got suspended today," he said quietly, ignoring Enjolras' tantrum. His eyes locked with those of his friend and he could literally see the panic building there. His own heart broke at the sight of the blond man, but at the same time his blood was boiling, because if this was really true, then that meant that Enjolras was responsible for him nearly losing his job. And that was a kind of betrayal he would've never, _ever_ , expected to get from his best friend.

"I-uh… My supervisor came to me today… And he told me that, apparently, there's been an unreasonable number of Oxy prescriptions with my signature. They think that I'm using my position as a doctor to get drugs to patients who don't need these kinds of medicine. Basically they think I'm a drug dealer," Combeferre's eyes were full of hurt and sorrow. "And if I can't prove that I didn't do anything wrong, it's going to cost me my job. And I'll never become a doctor…"

That was basically all it took to have everything spin out of control. Combeferre watched how Enjolras' face crumpled. He watched the quivering chin and the slight shake of his head. He heard the angry shouts, and the hitch in his friend's breath. He saw the tears sliding down his best friend's face and the fury edged across his features. But no matter how hard Enjolras screamed and cursed, Combeferre knew now that Grantaire was right. And he was so done.

"I can't believe you did this to me," Combeferre said quietly, voice breaking as couple of tears broke away from his own eyes. "You're my best friend…"

He didn't stay to see how Enjolras crumbled to the floor. He didn't stay to see how his best friend cried and cried until he got sick all over himself. He didn't stay to see how the man crawled all the way to the bathroom, only to grab the pills and swallow them. Not one, not two, but four at a time. Combeferre didn't stay to see anything. He spun on his heels and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

TBC.

* * *

(Hope you liked it!)


	5. Chapter 5

_(Hi guys! Thank you all for the reviews and likes on this story. Means a lot. Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it)_

* * *

Everything was a blur. The world around him spun whenever he moved too fast and there was a slight ringing in his ears. Something was wrong, that much he knew. He just didn't care to find out what. He didn't care about anything anymore. Not after what had just happened. Not after Combeferre calling him out on his betrayal. Not after breaking his best friend's heart. He figured he could die for all he cared. It would be best for everyone after all. He didn't deserve the life he still had; the people that still surrounded him. He had failed in every aspect that mattered; it would be best if he'd just… stop.

Enjolras weakly wiped a tear away. It was a lone tear. A lonely, silver one that managed to escape after so many had gone before it. His body was too weak to produce any more than that one, silver tear. He had cried enough for days to come, or so it felt. His eyes burned and his head throbbed. But Enjolras didn't even feel it. His senses were numb. Dulled by the pills he took. Not one. Not two. Not even three, but four at once. Enough to make his head heavy and his self-loathing smile lopsided.

He could still hear Combeferre's voice. _I can't believe you did this to me… You're my best friend_. And he could still hear himself scream denials. He could hear himself shout and curse and call his friend all horrible names that came up in his head. He'd called him a traitor for not believing him when he said he didn't do it. He called him a bad friend for not saying everything was going to be okay. Enjolras had screamed that he hated Combeferre, that he wished they'd never been friends, that he hoped he would leave him the fuck alone.

Then Combeferre was gone. And Enjolras had lost complete control over himself. He'd crashed down to the floor and cried. He'd cried so hard, he got sick all over himself. He'd barely been able to drag himself to the bathroom, locking the door behind. That's when he took the pills, all four of them. And he waited for them to work, to knock him out. To make sure he'd never wake up again. But he didn't lose consciousness. He just phased out, but he stayed very much aware of everything that had happened. He had silently begged Combeferre to come back. To hold him and make everything okay again.

But Combeferre didn't come back. All that was left, was his broken voice that echoed in Enjolras' head and his shocked expression that was edged on Enjolras' vision.

Enjolras had kept his secret for months and no one suspected a thing. And now, all of a sudden, his secret was out and he didn't even really understand how fast it all happened. One moment Combeferre was there, worried about his well being. And the next there was shouting and tears and a door that slammed shut.

Why couldn't he just have stayed calm? Enjolras smacked the back of his head against the wall in desperation. Why couldn't he have kept his cool? If he'd just manage not to panic, maybe everything would be fine right now. Maybe he would've been able to convince Combeferre that he was just a little sick. Maybe he'd still have his best friend by his side.

What would the others think of him? If Combeferre knew, it was only a matter of time before the rest of them would know. They'd hate him. They'd loathe him. They'd be so, so disappointed and rightfully so. Enjolras didn't deserve them. The moment he chose those pills over his friends, he knew he didn't deserve their loyalty and their love. The only thing he deserved was the way he was feeling right now. Lost, broken, alone.

He blinked slowly, his eyes fixed on a dirty spot on the wall. How had everything in his life spiralled down so hard and so fast? Had it really only been a year ago that he was happy? Had it only been a year that he still talked to his father regularly? That he'd gotten the internship at Lamarque's office? That he'd aced all his exams and still had time to prepare for meetings? That he, Combeferre and Courfeyrac planned their road trip for the summer that never played out? Enjolras couldn't remember the last time he felt happy. And couldn't imagine ever feeling happy again, not after everything that happened.

Enjolras didn't know how long he sat on the floor. After a while, he closed his eyes and allowed the drugs to claim his consciousness. He didn't know how long he'd be out and he didn't know if anyone would come looking for him. Combeferre was furious and so would the rest be. Enjolras couldn't blame them; they had every right to be mad. He'd be mad too if anyone else chose drugs over their friends. Maybe it'd be better if they never came again.

A clean break, that's what best.

* * *

Combeferre barely made it out of the front door before he collapsed on his knees in the hallway, tears streaming down his face. He was so angry with his friend and so upset. Never in his life had he thought Enjolras capable of doing something like this. Not just the drugs, but mostly the betrayal. It was a true stab in the back and Combeferre's heart broke just thinking about it. How could Enjolras do this to him? After everything they'd been through in their lives?

Why hadn't Enjolras come to them for help? Why had he chosen drugs to deal with whatever problem he was facing? Why had he ever decided to try those pills in the first place? And why, dear God why, had Combeferre not noticed anything? How could he have been so blind? Had he missed Enjolras' cry for help? Had he ignored the desperate reaching of his best friend's hand?

No. He hadn't. Not on purpose anyway. And Enjolras hadn't come to him once… He'd asked his friend a hundred times if he was doing okay or if he needed anything and Enjolras had never mentioned anything like this. _It's because he's too proud, too stubborn_. A voice said inside his head. _It's because he trusts you to know whenever something's wrong with him. It's because he relies on you to help when he needs it, even if he doesn't want to admit that he does._ A sob tore it's way through Combeferre's throat and he slammed his fist down on the floor.

"Goddamnit," he choked quietly, burying his head in his hands. How had he missed this? That was the one thing that tore at him most. Because no matter how angry he was, deep down he knew that Enjolras would never have done something like this if something hadn't been terribly wrong. And if that was the case, then it meant that Combeferre had missed it. He had missed his friend's call for help and this was the result.

After a while, he pushed himself up from the floor and leaned against the wall. He looked back at the door of Enjolras' apartment. For a moment, he wondered if he should go back in and see if his friend was all right. But he soon decided against that idea and slowly walked down the stairs, away from the fight, the tears and the pain that tore at his heart. He couldn't see Enjolras right now. He was still shaking with anger and he couldn't deal with any more denials or shouting. He needed to call his supervisor, explain the situation. He needed to save his job.

But first, he needed to tell the others. They had to know what was going on. Combeferre was furious and in no state to help right now, but he'd rather die than let Enjolras deal with this on his own. Especially after leaving his friend in such a state. He knew Enjolras needed help, even if he denied it. And he knew that their friends would want nothing more than to help in any way that they could.

He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and dialled Grantaire's number. If his friend hadn't been the one to tell him about his suspicions, Combeferre would've called Courfeyrac. He, Courfeyrac and Enjolras had been as tight as ever since they were mere children and if anyone could get through to his friend, it was Courfeyrac. But Combeferre couldn't call him to drop such a bomb and then expect the man to go over to Enjolras' place to check on him. It'd be best to contact Grantaire first. He'd know what to do. Or at least, Combeferre hoped he did.

"Combeferre. Is everything all right? Did you see Enjolras?" Grantaire asked the second he picked up his phone. It only had to ring once.

Combeferre didn't find his voice right away. He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. Tears threatened to break through once more. "R… You were right," he said finally.

There was a silence on the other end of the line. A silence, so thick one could cut it with a knife. Then: "God… 'Ferre. I wish I wasn't." Grantaire sounded tired and his voice trembled a little. "Did you… D-Did he say he used something?"

Combeferre walked across the cobblestones, making his way towards his own apartment where he needed a moment to cool down and think. "No," he spoke, shaking his head as well. "No, he didn't tell me anything. But it wasn't hard to guess. He looked horrible, and he was jumpy and nervous. He got angry for no reason at all and when I confronted him about what happened at the hospital, he freaked out. It was obvious that something was wrong and I know how someone looks when they're detoxing from Oxy and… a-and…"

His voice broke. Combeferre brought a hand up to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sob that came out. He needn't have bothered, because Grantaire heard it anyway.

"God… 'Ferre… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Grantaire said softly. His voice was quiet, but firm. It was clear that it didn't came as such a shock to Grantaire to be right about his suspicions. "But we'll fix this. We can… I mean, it's Enjolras… This is just a derail. It's a bad one, but we'll fix it, I know we can."

Combeferre could only huff in disbelief. He shook his head. "Just a derail?" he repeated. "Grantaire, he's been copying my signature for _months_. This is downright betrayal. I'm furious with him. I can't believe he did this to me. He knowingly jeopardized my position as a doctor. How _could_ he? How could he choose that over coming to me instead and telling me what was wrong? He broke my heart, R. He's supposed to be my best friend, but best friends don't do things like this."

On the other side of the line, he could hear muffled voices, then footsteps and a door. It was clear that Grantaire had stepped out of a room, wherever he was. "I know you're pissed, you have every right to be. But please don't act like you aren't far more worried than angry. I know you are. As you said, 'Ferre, you're his best friend. And no matter how horrible this whole thing is, that doesn't change… Nothing will change that."

Combeferre didn't reply right away. What Grantaire said was true, of course, but he was still upset. He didn't want to downplay this.

"Look," Grantaire continued when Combeferre didn't speak. "You know Enjolras better than I do… better than I ever will know him, probably. And you know that for Enjolras to seek his escape in something as serious as drugs, something has got to be wrong. Very wrong. And that already scares the hell out of me, so I know it must terrify you. Because it means that we missed something – as a group – and that's… that's just sickening."

"You didn't miss it," Combeferre muttered, hoping he didn't sound too resentful. He wasn't just angry with Enjolras, he was angry with himself as well, because Grantaire was right. They had missed something. He fished his keys out of his jacket and opened the door to his apartment.

"I _did_ miss it," Grantaire replied. "I only suspected something was up recently. And this has been going on for a long time, probably since he left the hospital."

Combeferre sighed, sinking down on his couch. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all so wrong. "Someone needs to go to him," he said finally. "I left him after I knew for sure and… it wasn't good, I shouldn't have left like that… I need someone to check on him. Can you tell the others what's happening and send someone over there? Or go over there yourself? I can't… I can't do it right now."

He was tired and worn. It was still hard to grasp the enormity of everything that transpired that afternoon. Not only had he been suspended from his internship until further notice, he also had to find out it was Enjolras who was responsible for that and that his best friend was addicted to drugs. Combeferre needed a minute to lie down and think.

"Of course," Grantaire replied, though he sounded hesitant. "I'll tell them about my suspicions and what you found out just now… Just-… We need to come together 'Ferre, all of us. We need to discuss this and how we're going to handle this. You said he's denying everything… he isn't going to let us help just like that. We need to think of a course of action."

Combeferre nodded to himself. He knew they had to do all of that. And they'd probably have to go behind Enjolras' back to find out what lies he had told them all. Maybe he didn't even work at Lamarque's anymore. Was he still going to his classes? When was the last time he'd spoken to his father? Combeferre suddenly doubted everything.

"You're right. We will do that," Combeferre replied. "Just… Let someone go to him and then the rest of you meet me at my place tonight. Maybe it's best you come to my place too… you know… to explain the things that you noticed about him. Maybe the others will recognize something too."

"Alright. We'll meet you in a bit then. Hang in there 'Ferre. If I could climb out of hole as deep as mine, then Enjolras sure as hell will too. The strength is still there, he just needs us to believe in him."

* * *

Enjolras didn't know how long he had been unconscious. When he woke up, he was still sitting in the bathroom and his shirt was still damp and smelly from his own sickness. He crinkled his nose and pressed the heels of his hand against his temple. It didn't take long for him to remember what had happened and why he was stuck in the bathroom. The fight with Combeferre was still very vivid in his mind. He had been so stupid. So very _stupid, stupid, stupid_.

At first he didn't know what it was that woke him up. He figured the drugs had played their part and now he was bound to wait until he needed another fix. But at the same time, he still felt drowsy and his mind was still hazy. Maybe the drugs were still in his system and he woke up from that noise that came from the other room, just outside the bathroom door.

That noise…

It sounded like someone was trying to jam the lock of the bathroom door with an object. It was a knife, maybe, or a credit card. But who could be here? Combeferre had stormed off. And his friends wouldn't want to see him, not after they'd know what he did. Who had the keys to his apartment and would be bothered to come over and check up on him?

"E, please, for God's sake, if you can hear me, open the door."

Enjolras froze. He knew that voice. He knew that voice very well. It belonged to someone who meant love and happiness, laughter and friendship. It belonged to someone he knew since he was a child. It belonged to someone who always managed to make him feel better. But it couldn't be him. Why would he come over? Why would he care? Unless… maybe… he didn't know what happened yet.

"I swear to God, I'll kick the door down if you don't open it."

He sounded scared. Terrified, even. Like he was on the brink of crying. It killed Enjolras to hear the man like that. He wanted to stand up and open the door for him, but his body refused to move. He knew it had everything to do with the amount of pills he took after Combeferre left. Two pills already numbed his senses to a certain extent. It couldn't have been good to swallow four… Why did he do that? Why was he so stupid?

A loud thumb caused him to flinch. Another one had him lift his head to see his door hang loosely in its hinges. Behind it, a face appeared, a face that was contorted in shock and fear. Enjolras recognized the face. It belonged to the voice he had heard earlier. He didn't know if he wanted to cry in relief of seeing a friendly face or hide away and die just so that his friend didn't have to see him like that.

"Jesus Christ, E…" Courfeyrac exclaimed, rushing over to his friend in a hurry. He took his friend in his arms, propping him up against his chest. "What did you do, huh? What did you take? Tell me!" His eyes roamed around the bathroom floor until they found a small bottle, kicked away somewhere underneath a pile of towels.

He shook his friend and gently slapped his face. "How many did you take, Enjolras? Do I need to stick my fingers down your throat? Come on, man… Talk to me."

Apparently, somewhere between feeling his friend's arms around him and the worried tone of his voice, Enjolras' mind decided it was best to he start crying again. Heavy sobs shook his numbed body and thick tears soaked Courfeyrac's sleeve. His friend only tightened his grip.

Courfeyrac choked on a sob of his own. He pressed a hard kiss against Enjolras' temple and gently shook him again. "Tell me, E. I have to know, how many did you take? Please, _please_ talk to me…"

"I'm fine," Enjolras managed to say in a hoarse whisper that was almost too soft for Courfeyrac to hear. "'M fine… n-no… N-no o-overdose, I promise." Using the word and hearing Courfeyrac's relieved sigh only made Enjolras cry harder. He had really done it now. Here he was, in Courfeyrac's arms… strong, kind and gentle Courfeyrac who had too much of a heart to leave him alone to rot, like he deserved. Enjolras knew his secret was out. Everyone knew. And, oh, how horrible he felt. How humiliated and ashamed. He wished he _had_ overdosed. Then at least he didn't have to feel and see the disappointment on his friend's face. He didn't have to see how much it pained Courfeyrac to see him like this. It would only be a matter of time until Courfeyrac decided he felt too betrayed. And he'd leave Enjolras behind, like Combeferre had done.

But Courfeyrac didn't leave. He stayed right where he was, with Enjolras firmly wrapped in his arms. He pressed kisses to Enjolras' head and carded a gentle hand through his curls, tugging the hair back in a comforting manner. The sweet nothings he whispered in Enjolras' ear didn't really make sense, but Enjolras felt soothed by them nonetheless. He figured that as long as he still had a friend, he should at least try to enjoy the comfort as much as he could.

"Let's get you cleaned up a bit, yeah?" Courfeyrac said softly after a while. Enjolras didn't know how long they'd been sitting on the bathroom floor, but it was long enough for his tears to dry again. "Get you out of this disgusting shirt and into bed. I think you need a good, long sleep… I'll stay with you, I promise."

Enjolras didn't fight Courfeyrac. He was still too drugged to do anything other than cooperate. Besides, his body was far too weak to put up a fight even if he wanted to. It was no use anyway. Courfeyrac had already seen how low he had fallen; there was no hiding from it anymore. He allowed his friend to take off his shirt and wash his face and torso with a wet cloth. He didn't say anything when Courfeyrac helped him in his pyjamas and under the covers of his bed, which he hadn't made in weeks. To be quite honest, he hadn't slept in it in weeks either – the couch proved a much more miserable place to crash.

When Courfeyrac climbed in the bed after him, and took him in his arms once more, Enjolras felt his chin quivering again and he cursed his own weakness. "I'm sorry," he breathed, tears slipping from his eyes again. And he meant it. He truly was sorry for everything, for what he did to himself and his friends. "He hates me…"

Courfeyrac didn't need to be a psychologist to know Enjolras was talking about Combeferre. He'd heard the story, Grantaire told them. He knew what happened and he knew what his friend did. But he shook his head, because Enjolras couldn't be more wrong. "He doesn't hate you, E… He could never hate you. He's just upset because he loves you so fucking much. We all do."

Enjolras just shook his head, curling further into Courfeyrac's embrace as he cried.

"Shh," Courfeyrac hummed quietly, stroking the soft blond hair. "Don't think about that right now. Don't think about anything other than sleep. You need to sleep this off and then we'll worry about everything else in the morning. You're okay. We're all going to be okay, you'll see. I promise you that. Just sleep now... I'm right here."

It didn't take long until the remnants of the drugs combined with his overall exhaustion pulled Enjolras under. He had no energy left to think about tomorrow or anything after that. For now, he was safe in Courfeyrac's arms. He was loved, despite his failure. For now, that was enough.

TBC.

* * *

 _(Hope you liked it :) Next chapter will have more of Grantaire's point of view, I promise. Thanks for reading!)_


	6. Chapter 6

_(Sorry this took so long. Here's another chapter, hope you like it! Sorry if there are any mistakes. I didn't have the time to reread it all, but I'll try to do so later on. Just wanted to get this up anyway.)_

Grantaire was nervous. His eyes kept darting to the clock on Enjolras' wall and every time he did, the pointer had only moved a few inches. Time was crawling and they were all forced to wait. Wait until Enjolras finally woke up and they could confront him about his addiction.

An intervention.

The word echoed in Grantaire's head and he didn't like it. An _intervention_. It sounded so… negative. And for Grantaire it was hard to see anything negative associated with Enjolras. Enjolras stood for light, hope and positivity. He didn't stand for addictions… for interventions… It wasn't right. It felt horribly wrong. And part of Grantaire wondered if he wasn't dreaming. Because this had to be a nightmare. A horrible, unbelievable nightmare.

Around him, his friends sat just as quietly as he did. Sometimes someone said something. A question was asked. Someone chuckled or sighed. But mostly, everyone was silent. What was there to say? They had all failed. They were supposed to be a tight group of friends. A group that supported one another through everything. And yet they had missed something so vital. None of them had noticed Enjolras slipping further and further away from them. Not until it was too late. And now…

They only found out yesterday, after Combeferre had confirmed what he'd seen. It was a lot to take in. To not only hear that the leader of your group was struggling with an addiction, but that he also violated a deep trust between him and Combeferre. Not to mention the phone call they received from Courfeyrac a little later on telling them about the state he found Enjolras in and how he had nearly overdosed.

Grantaire's eyes searched for Combeferre. The man was a right mess, torn between anger and worry for his best friend. At first, he hadn't wanted to come, but in the end he understood that for this to work, he of all people, should be there. If there was anyone Enjolras would listen to, it was Combeferre. That had always been the case, and some things never changed. As Grantaire watched, Combeferre was clenching and unclenching his fists, biting the inside of his cheek and checking his watch twice all in a matter of two minutes. The man was just as nervous as Grantaire was… If not more so.

"How long before he wakes up?"

Grantaire looked away from Combeferre to the source of the question. Jehan sat close to Feuilly, hands clasped together. The youngest member of their group was devastated by the news. They all were. Jehan's eyes were red and puffy and his hands shook as he tugged his hair away in a braid.

"We don't know," Joly answered him quietly. "According to Courfeyrac, he took quite some pills. He's been out for hours already but he wakes up every now and then. It's just that he isn't very lucid when he does and we don't want to do this when he's not lucid. He needs to be here, mentally, for this to have any sort of effect."

"It'll have effect," Bahorel said somber. "We'll just have to wait and see what kind of effect. Interventions are never pretty."

Grantaire met Bahorel's eyes for a moment and quickly looked away. He remembered the day his friends confronted him about his drinking. It didn't really come as a surprise… they had all mentioned his problem one way or another. But never as a group together. It wasn't a nice day and Grantaire remembered hating every single one of his friends at that moment. Which was weird, considering how much he loved them for it now. He was incredibly grateful for his friends to step up and force him to face his problem. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life, but he was so proud of himself for pushing through. And he couldn't have done it without the support of the group. Without the support of Enjolras… who had been a solid rock through it all.

"There are necessary though," Bossuet spoke up, rubbing a hand over his bold head. "We need to let him know that we're there for him, that we'll help him and that we aren't mad."

A snort came from the corner of the room and everyone turned to Combeferre, who seemed both guilty about making the noise and upset that they weren't supposed tob e mad. Grantaire worried about his friend. Combeferre didn't deserve any of this. It wasn't fair for him to be in this position and he wished he could do something.

"You need to put your anger aside if you want to help him, 'Ferre," Marius said quietly, not meeting the medical student's eyes. "We need to be certain you're going to be supportive. Otherwise maybe it's best you don't participate in the intervention…"

"Don't be stupid," Grantaire said, speaking up for the first time. "If Combeferre isn't here, we might as well all go home. If there's anyone who Enjolras will listen to, it's Combeferre and Courfeyrac. They both need to be here. It's a vital part of this whole idea. I don't know what Enjolras'll do if he comes in here and sees Combeferre isn't with us. It'll break his heart."

That tore a sob from Combeferre's throat and the medical student brought his hand up to muffle the noise. Tears were shining in his eyes, but they didn't fall.

"Besides," Grantaire continued, "Enjolras has every right to know that Combeferre is upset and hurt by what he did. He needs to see that. The fact that Combeferre is here and willing to help despite of that is proof enough that he wants to be supportive. It'll mean all the more to Enjolras."

A hand squeezed Grantaire's shoulder and he looked up to see Courfeyrac smiling at him, a grateful look in his eyes. No one had heard the other man come in. Courfeyrac gave them hourly updates but stayed in Enjolras' room for the rest of the time. Enjolras had felt safe with him and Courfeyrac wanted to be the one to tell him what was going to happen.

"Grantaire is right," Courfeyrac agreed, his hand still on Grantaire's shoulder. And if his grip was a little too tight, Grantaire didn't want to mention it. "Right now Enjolras pretty much thinks Combeferre hates him… So the fact that he's here will mean all the more to him."

Combeferre shook his head, one tear breaking through. "I don't hate him… I could never hate him," he whispered. His voice was sad, but the message sounded firm and clear. And that alone told Grantaire how much love was still there. Love that would never disappear, no matter what happened.

"I know that," Courfeyrac said with a reassuring smile. "And deep down, so does Enjolras. He's just not thinking clearly right now. Once he's got all that shit out of his system, he'll understand that you're mad at him, but still love him." Or at least, that was what Courfeyrac hoped would happen.

"How is he doing, Courf? Is he awake yet?" Feuilly asked softly.

Grantaire watched Courfeyrac, a little afraid of the answer. On one hand, he wanted to get this over with, but on the other, he wasn't looking forward to it at all. No one could tell how Enjolras was going to respond.

"Actually, yes," Courfeyrac said, sounding a little nervous himself. "He woke up a few minutes ago, still a bit fuzzy, but more awake than before. I don't think he quite realizes what happened yesterday. I told him I was going to get him some water. And once I do, I'll tell him that you're all out here and we need to speak with him. We'll see where everything goes from there."

"D'you think he'll want to come out and talk to us at all? I mean… he's going to deny it, I think we know that for sure."

Grantaire shrugged his shoulders and looked at Marius. "He can deny all he want… But we've searched the house and we've got proof. Not to mention we all the lies we found out about… We know he hasn't been with his doctor in months and Lamarque told us he never returned to his internship after the accident… Besides… 'Ferre saw him yesterday and Courf has been here since his melt down… so… I think denying it isn't really an option for him."

"And if he doesn't want to come out and talk, we'll go in there and say what we have to say," said Joly, sounding a lot more sure than he looked.

"Exactly," Courfeyrac said, nodding. Grantaire could see how he tried to catch Combeferre's attenion, but the medical student kept his eyes down. "Exactly… Okay, then.. Just… I'll go back in there and you'll know when we'll start…"

Grantaire watched Courfeyrac grab a glass of water and disappear back in Enjolras' bedroom. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. Silently, he prayed that everything would be okay. It _had_ to be okay.

Enjolras curled a little further in on himself. He felt sick and he was so, so tired, despite having slept for more than fourteen hours. He couldn't remember what happened last night and he didn't understand why he felt so horrible or why Courfeyrac was there in the bed with him. His mind told him he was missing something terrible and he was scared to find out what it was. The fact that he couldn't remember meant that something must've happened. Maybe he took too many pills? Maybe he finally found the courage to end it all…

Carefully, Enjolras turned on his back and he groaned at the pain in his head. He needed another fix. His body ached all over and he was sweating like a pig. But Courfeyrac was still here… Had he noticed anyting? Did they find out about his secret? They couldn't have… If Courfeyrac knew, he wouldn't be here, right? If he knew, he'd get as far away from Enjolras as possible. Who needed a friend like that?

"Enjolras?"

Enjolras opened his eyes at the voice and watched Courfeyrac enter the bedroom with a glass of water in his hand. He frowned at his friend, noticing the slight tremor in his voice and the worry in his eyes.

"Good, you're still awake," Courfeyrac said. He helped Enjolras up and handed him the glass of water. As his friend drank, Courfeyrac placed a hand on Enjolras' forehead, frowning at the heat he found there. "How're you feeling?"

Enjolras closed his eyes, savouring the cold water that soothed his aching throat. "I'm alright," he murmured.

"Liar."

Enjolras opened his eyes again and gave Courfeyrac a look. Something stirred in the back of his mind and it didn't feel comfortable. He was missing something. Something important and it set him on edge. "I'm alright, Courf… just… maybe I'm coming down with something."

Courfeyrac sighed and sat down on the bed next to his friend. "Do you remember what happened yesterday?"

There it was again. That horrible feeling that he was missing something. Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek and tried as hard as he could to search his mind, but everything was a mess. Something happened, but what? What happened? What did Courfeyrac know? Enjolras wished his head would stop spinning.

"I guess not," Courfeyrac said softly, reaching out to take Enjolras' hand. "You don't remember Combeferre coming by yesterday? He came to check up on, see if you were alright? You had a fight…"

Enjolras swallowed, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck. There were blurry images flashing before his eyes, but he couldn't make them connect. One thing though, he did remember, and he figured that it was important to this conversation.

"I cancelled the meeting," he whispered, his voice raspy and hoarse. "I was feeling… sick."

Courfeyrac nodded and squeezed Enjolras hand. It felt ironic now, his friend really did look sick. It was just a different kind of sickness. Enjolras was detoxing and now that Courfeyrac knew that, it was so obvious. He'd seen it happen with Grantaire and this wasn't any different.

"Combeferre came to check up on you," Courfeyrac continued softly, keeping his voice gentle. "He also wanted to tell you about something that happened at work… How they suspended him?"

Enjolras eyes widened in shock. Everything of last night came rushing back to him and the memories slammed into him like an anvil. They knew. Everyone knew. They hated him. Without realizing what happened, his breathing sped up and his heart hammered in his chest. He felt like throwing up, but his stomach was in knots. Tears formed in his eyes and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

"Enjolras, calm down," Courfeyrac said calmly. He wasn't a stranger to Enjolras' panic attacks. It happened often and he knew how to deal with them. The most important thing right now was to keep his voice gentle and soft. He reached out towards his friend and carefully pressed him against his chest. "Calm down, mon ami, it's alright"

"Can't breathe," Enjolras wheezed, eyes squeezed shut. "C-Courf… I… C-Can't breathe."

"Yes, you can," Courfeyrac replied, still in that same soft voice. He drew gentle cirlcles on Enjolras' back, like he always did when this happened. "Yes, you can. There's more than enough air in here. Come on, you know the drill. Follow my lead, all right? Easy, now. In and out… In and out… Everything's fine."

A small sob escaped Enjolras' lips, but he did as he was told. It hurt to breathe, but he tried his best to follow Courfeyrac's pattern. And finally, after what must've been at least ten minutes, his breathing started to calm down and he was able to suck enough air into his lungs.

The panic attack left him even more exhausted than he already was and he slumped in Courfeyrac's embrace. Then he started crying.

"It's alright, E… It's going to be alright, I promise." Courfeyrac repeated quietly, his heart breaking at the sound of his friend's cries.

"Y-You know… 'Ferre… E-Everyone… y-you know…" Enjolras choked out, breath hitching between sobs. There was no use denying it. He knew he'd been caught red-handed. First by Combeferre and then by Courfeyrac. Enjolras was sure they'd found his pills already… Probably threw them out. That thought nearly brought on another panic attack.

Courfeyrac carded a hand through the blonde curls. "Yes," he said softly, trying his best to keep his voice firm even though tears of his own were threatening to spill. "Yes, we know… And I'm so sorry we never noticed anything…"

Enjolras shook his head. They hated him, they were all going to hate him. This wasn't their fault, it was all Enjolras' fault and it wouldn't take long before Courfeyrac realized that. He shouldn't be this nice to him. It wasn't right.

"You need to stop, E…" Courfeyrac continued, still keeping Enjolras close. "This can't go on… You need to stop and get better."

Enjolras shook his head, tears falling from his eyes as he did. He couldn't stop. He'd die if he'd stop. He took the pills for a reason. If he stopped, he was right back at the beginning. The reason why he started using them in the first place. "No… n-no, Courf, I can't stop… I need them… I can't function without them, please, I can't stop… Don't make me…"

It broke Courfeyrac's heart to hear his strong friend beg for something like this. Where did they go wrong? What did they miss? How could they let this happen to Enjolras? "I'm sorry, Enjolras, but you have to… You… You're killing yourself like this and we don't want you to. We love you far too much… You need to stop. You're going to stop. We threw the pills away and 'Ferre'll make sure you can't get them anymore."

Enjolras pushed away from Courfeyrac and rubbed at his eyes, still shaking his head. "No, no, no, no," he murmured over and over again. "You don't love me… If you'd love me you'd let me take the pills… You're killing me by not giving them, you are… Courf, please… Help me?"

"I am helping you. Just not the way you want right now." Courfeyrac sighed and looked down at his hand. It was still entwined with Enjolras. He brought the fingers up to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. "Enjolras… All of our friends are here right now… They're here because they care and they want to help…"

"No…" Enjolras said again. "No, Courf… They hate me… 'Ferre hates me… I don't want to see them." He felt horrible. Everything hurt and he just wanted to curl up and die. He needed the pills. He'd gone fourteen hours without them and it was killing him, he knew it was. He needed the pills. "Don't make me see them."

"They don't hate you, Enjolras… 'Ferre least of all… We're worried, that's all. And scared. We feel like we've failed you somehow, we missed your call for help… We want to help. And we're going outside to talk to them. Together, alright?"

Enjolras pulled his hand away from Courfeyrac and let out a miserable laugh. "You don't care. You don't care, none of you do. I don't need your help, I never did. You just need something to fix. You… Y-You need… Y-You need a face for our group… You don't care. You're disgusted, I know you are. You should be… Leave me alone, please, just leave me alone."

"You know that's not true," Courfeyrac replied, not once losing his calm. "You're pushing us away, because you're scared and ashamed. And I get that, I do. Maybe you need to be ashamed a bit… But you do need our help and we want to help you. We love you E, despite what you might think. And I don't care what you say, how much you yell, or curse, but we're going out there and we're going to listen to what our friends have to say. You're going to let us help."

"You can't make me…"

"I can and I will. You don't want to test me, E… Not now." Courfeyrac fixed Enjolras with a firm glare, one that Enjolras would've been proud of if he hadn't been so messed up. Courfeyrac knew he'd won the discussion when Enjolras averted his eyes and started shaking all the more. It wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done.

Grantaire watched Enjolras carefully as he sat in his chair and listened to everything his friends said to him. Or at least, pretended to listen to them. They were all beautiful stories; wonderful devotions of friendship and Grantaire knew that Enjolras would've cherished each and every one of them if he hadn't been in this state of mind. Now though, it felt like he was watching a time bomb. Grantaire knew Enjolras well enough to know that it was just a matter of time before he'd go off and judging by the looks Courfeyrac and Combeferre gave each other, they knew it too.

Talking about Combeferre, the man in question hadn't said anything yet. He'd nodded at Enjolras when his friend came in the room, but that was about it. And Grantaire could see how it was slowly killing Enjolras. He didn't miss the desperate looks the younger blond threw Combeferre's way every now and again. But Combeferre didn't meet his eyes once.

"You're our leader, Enjolras and you'll always be our leader. What happened doesn't change anything… You're always helping others, now let us help you for once… We ca-"

Marius stopped talking when Enjolras suddenly started laughing. A demeaning laugh that send chills down everyone's spine. Then Enjolras clapped his hand, standing up to give a small bow. All sadness that was edged across his face when he entered the living room earlier had now changed to hatred and anger.

"Well done, everyone," Enjolras said. "I can't count myself lucky enough to have such friends as you all. Look at you. All neatly tucked away in a circle… with your tiny little papers and speeches about how much you care and how you want to help. Well you know what? Fuck that! I don't need you to tell me what to do. I don't need you to take care of me or to help me. Look at you! You're a bunch of pathetic boys who would do well to look at themselves before looking at me. We've already got one addict here in the room, you know? Maybe we should focus on him instead? He's the one who hasn't got his shit under control. He's the one who nearly crashed into a little girl when he was driving drunk! I haven't done anything to any of you. I've minded my own business and you should to. I don't need you to fix me. I don't need fixing. I have everything under control. I don't need an uneducated orphan. I don't need a lovesick puppy. I don't need someone who's scared of his own spit. I don't need someone who solves his problems with violence. I don't need an ignorant, naïve intern who poses as a best friend and I sure as hell don't need an ex-alcoholic. I don't need any of you to help me. Leave me the fuck alone."

And with that, Enjolras disappeared into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him. The living room went dead silent, everyone shocked by the sudden outburst. Grantaire tried not to be bothered by the words Enjolras said, even though it felt like his heart was ripped out his chest and smashed on the floor. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Combeferre slip out into the kitchen and Grantaire knew he was crying. It didn't take long before Courfeyrac followed the man and left the shocked group of friends behind.

Grantaire stared at his feet for a moment, then stood and walked up to Enjolras bedroom door. Without saying anything to the rest of his friends, he picked the lock with a paperclip and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

TBC.

 _(Hope you liked it! Please let me know if you did?)_


	7. Chapter 7

_(Hi guys! Here's another chapter. Sorry for the long wait! It isn't beta'd so I'm sorry if there are any horrible mistakes…)_

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Grantaire didn't know what to expect when he opened the door and stepped inside Enjolras'room. He had to blink against the darkness at first, but his eyes adjusted soon enough. And once he could make out shapes, it was easy to spot his friend. Enjolras was hunched in a far corner of his room, back pressed against the wall and head bowed. When Grantaire closed the door behind him, Enjolras looked up and scoffed.

"How the hell did you come in?" he asked in a raspy voice and Grantaire could tell he'd been crying. Or maybe he was still crying, but it was too dark for him to tell.

"I'm not a stranger to picking locks, remember?" Granatire answered softly, stepping a little closer, but keeping a safe distance so not to crowd his friend.

Enjolras huffed and shook his head. "That's right, I forgot. You're the criminal who picked locks of liqor stores just to get your fix. Leave me alone, Grantaire. I don't need help, especially not yours. What is an alcoholic even going to do? You're no good to me, you never were. We're not even friends." He crossed his arms and turned his head away. For a moment, Grantaire thought he looked like a petulant child, but he knew better than to voice that thought. He didn't come in to fight with Enjolras. On the contrary, he came in to talk.

"I know what it is you're doing," Grantaire stated, doing his best not to be hurt by that comment. "And it's not working. You can push me away all you want, but I'm not going anywhere." To emphasize his point, Grantaire sat down on Enjolras' bed.

His friend glared at him and Grantaire could see how he clenched his jaw. "This is my room, Grantaire. If I tell you to leave, you leave. You have no right to be here. And I'll swear to God I'll remove you personally if you don't go."

At that, Grantaire let out a low chuckle and shook his head. "Honestly, Apollo, I would like to see you try. But I doubt you can even stand up without those knees buckling. You look a downright mess." He wasn't trying to be mean, but one look at Enjolras and anyone could tell that he was in no state to physically remove someone. He was trembling like a leaf and squinting his eyes so often that Grantaire was sure his vision was blurry,.

"And you know everything about messes, don't you, R?" Enjolras voice was softer this time and Grantaire wondered if the strength to fight had left him already. "Please, just… leave me alone."

"I wouldn't say I know everything about messes, but I know a lot. Used to be one myself."

At that Enjolras sighed and shook his head. "You're still mess."

Grantaire was silent for a moment. It was hard to see his friend like this. Enjolras and he hadn't always been the best of friends but after Grantaire got rid of his alcohol addiction and especially after Enjolras' accident, the two of them had grown very close. And Grantaire knew for a fact that Enjolras didn't think he was a mess at all. His friend had put a lot of effort in making sure Grantaire knew how proud he was and how much respect he had for him. And to his own amazement, Grantaire found it easier to believe that Enjolras than the one sitting before him know. He had to admit that he'd come a long way.

"No, I'm not," Grantaire said quietly, stepping away from the bed to sit next to Enjolras on the floor. "I'm not a mess and I know you don't think I am. You're not able to get me out of this room by force so you're trying to get rid of me by hurting my feelings. It's not going to work, E… Like I said, I know what you're doing. I've been in this position myself, remember?"

Enjolras didn't answer him this time, but he turned his head away and stared somewhere in the distance. If Grantaire didn't know better, he'd thought that Enjolras was simply ignoring him, but he wasn't. To Grantaire it was clear that Enjolras was trying his hardest to battle panic and anger at the same time as all the detox symptoms he was showing. It wasn't a pleasant place to be in.

Grantaire sighed and shifted a little closer to his friend, just enough so that their shoulders were almost touching. "What are you doing to yourself, E?" he asked quietly, making sure to keep his voice clear of judgement. "This isn't who you are… You're not… You're not a junkie. That isn't you…"

Enjolras shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. "Isn't it? I'd think that the intervention you guys planned and the fact that you've gone through my stuff to make sure all my medication is gone tells me that I am. I'm embarrassed enough as it is, Grantaire… If you don't mind I'd rather be alone… Just… don't bother."

"We did those things, because we're worried about you. Can't you see that?" Grantaire asked quietly, feeling a bit more at ease now that Enjolras wasn't shouting insults at him. "We did that because we all know that this," he waved around at Enjolras' form, "this isn't who you are. For Christ sake, Apollo… You're our shining star. You're the leader of the rebellion. You're the guy who fights for others and thinks about everyone's needs except his own. That's who you are. That's you, Enjolras. Not this… Not this shadow of a broken soul, who's lashing out at all his friends…"

Enjolras bowed his head and Grantaire could hear him swallow.

"This isn't who you want to be. I know that. You just…" Grantaire fell quiet, searching for words. "You just made a few bad decisions, that probably sounded like a good idea in your head at first. And once you're on that path it's fucking hard to leave it, but you can do it. If anyone can, it's you."

Enjolras huffed a little and shook his head, keeping his eyes firmly trained to the floor. "For a cynic you sound awfully sure of yourself."

At that point, Grantaire took Enjolras' hand and squeezed it. They'd done that so many times before, but somehow it felt different now and Grantaire could feel Enjolras flinch. Still, he didn't let go. "I don't believe in much, but I do believe in you. I've always believed in you, Enjolras, and you've never disappointed. You never failed me or any of our friends."

Enjolras looked up at that and Grantaire could see the tears swimming in his eyes. "Haven't I?" he asked, voice breaking somewhere in the middle. "I hate to break it to you, R, but I don't see how betraying your best friend and stealing drugs doesn't qualify as a failure or a disappointment. I don't want any of your help, because I don't deserve it. I've done this to myself and I… I-" He trailed off, too close to breaking down in order to continue.

"I think we can determine for ourselves who deserves our help and who doesn't. You all thought I deserved it… now why on earth wouldn't you?"

"Because!" Enjolras snapped as a few tears escaping from his eyes. "Because you were already that way when we met you… You were already depressed and addicted… And you honestly tried and wanted to change. Of course we wanted to help you."

"I still don't see how the same doesn't qualify for you." Grantaire replied.

Enjolras shook his head and twisted his hand out of Grantaire's hold. "I was fine before this. I had good grades, I was doing good at the internship, I had a plan and I knew what I wanted with my life. I had no reason, none whatsoever, to let it get this bad. I don't deserve your help, because I was careless. I fucked up while I shouldn't have and it's… It's just pathetic."

Grantaire's breath hitched a little as he listened to his friend talk. He knew Enjolras was in a bad place, but to hear him say such things about himself hurt mor than he'd like to admit. This time, Grantaire didn't reach for Enjolras' hands, but grabbed both his shoulders and turned the man towards him.

"For a guy so smart, you really can be so stupid," He said, brushing a loose curl behind Enjolras' ear and ignoring the way his friend scowled at him. "Do you remember what you told once? When you were sick of me putting you on a pedestal and bringing myself down all the time? You told me that even the strongest mind was allowed to falter. And that even the weakest mind could climb back up. You have such undying faith in your fellow man, so why not in yourself? If anyone can climb back up after this, it's you. You're the strongest person I know. Everyone has troubles and everyone makes mistakes. That includes you, Enjolras. But you don't deserve to punished for it. And you definitely don't deserve to lose your friends over this. So stop pushing us away and allow us to be your friends."

Tears were flowing freely now and Enjolras did his best to not break down into sobs. He bit his lip and swallowed around the lump in his throat. But he couldn't believe the words Grantaire said. He was such a disappointment in his own eyes, he couldn't see how his friend would see it any different. "I betrayed Combeferre," Enjolras choked out as a last resort. Surely that was enough to make Grantaire see how bad of a person he was. "I betrayed him in the worst way possible and he's going to lose his job over this. I ruined his dreams, I don't deserve his help… I don't R… leave me alone."

Enjolras tried to twist out of his hold again, but this time Grantaire held him fast. "You made a mistake," he repeated forcefully. "And no, what you did wasn't pretty and yes, you hurt Combeferre by doing it. But he doesn't hate you… And if anyone wants you to pick your life up and get better, it's 'Ferre. The guy loves you, he still does and he'd die for you in a second. The fact that he's here should be proof enough that he cares, right?"

Enjolras shrugged and shook his head again, although this time it wasn't because he wanted to contradict Grantaire, but because he didn't know what else to say. When his eyes met those of Grantaire, all he could see in there was dedication and determination. And Enjolras realized that if anyone could relate to what he was feeling, it was Grantaire. He should accept any help the man wanted to offer instead of pushing him away. But Enjolras was scared. Terrified even, of failing once again. "What do I do?"

Grantaire laughed a relieved smile and squeezed Enjolras' shoulders. "As much as it sounds like an open door, Apollo, all you need to do is stop with the drugs. You're already well on your way with the detox, we can have you checked into a clinic this afternoon if you want…"

But Enjolras shook his head, eyes wide and pupils dilated as he tried his best to slow down his rapid heartbeat. "No… I don't want to go to any clinic. I can't go, R… It'll go on my record and they'll tell my father and I'll remember and…. everything will be ruined. I'll never find a job again and I… I-I can't, R, I can't go there." He let out a tiny sob and brought on hand up to cover his face. He was terrified to go to a clinic. He'd been there before once in his life and his memories weren't good.

"Okay, okay," Grantaire soothed, reaching out to take hold of Enjolras' hand. He lifted his friend's chin and made sure to keep eye contact. "No one is taken you anywhere unless you want to go there alright… If you don't want to go to a clinic you could always try to… well, you know… quit cold turkey?" To be honest, that was the last thing Grantaire wanted Enjolras to do. It would be incredibly hard and painful and dangerous too if he didn't have eight wonderful friends to help him through it. Besides, Enjolras seemed to have forgotten that in order for Combeferre to prove his innocence, he would have to report Enjolras, which meant this would go on his record anyway. He swallowed and shrugged one shoulder, deciding now was not the time to mention it. "It won't be easy, but if anyone can do it, it'll be you."

Enjolras shivered and it wasn't all because of the detox. He knew very well how horrible it could be to stop just like that. If he felt sick now, that was nothing compared to how he would feel later on. His body and mind would form a union against his rational spirit in order to get the fix they needed so badly. It wasn't something he looked forward to in the least, but going to a clinic sounded even worse to him. Besides, maybe quitting cold turkey would restore some of the respect his friends had for him.

So Enjolras nodded, and once he did, everything became too overwhelming. His shoulders shook and this time he couldn't hold it back. Before he knew what was happening, he was crying in Grantaire's arms. Ugly sobs wracked his already shaking body. It was all too much. Everything that happened in the past 36 hours was way too much for his troubled mind to comprehend. All he wanted now, was for it to stop. He wanted to go back to when he was fine. He wanted to be normal. He wanted to be the guy his friends admired again. He wanted to lead meetings and plan rallies. He wanted to go back to school and work.

Grantaire didn't say anything when Enjolras collapsed against his chest. He knew that he had broken through the fog that was his friend's mind and chances were they could go foreward from this. Enjolras was ready to fight, or at least to try. And that was more than Grantaire had hoped for. He allowed his friend to cry and made sure to keep a firm hold on the other man's body. He wanted to be a solid rock for as long and as much as Enjolras needed. "It'll be fine, Apollo… Just wait and see. Everything will be fine in the end. I'm sure of it."

They sat like that for a while. Enjolras stopped crying soon enough and instead listened to Grantaire's soothing words as he stayed close, still pressed against his chest. When he felt a little bit more like himself, he pulled back and squeezed Grantaire's hand in a silent thank you. "C-Could you maybe go get Courfeyrac for me?" Enjolras asked softly, voice still shaking a little. "I-… I want to tell him."

Grantaire smiled and placed his hand against Enjolras' cheek – an intimate gesture that would've been unthinkable a year ago, but now was trusted and familiar. "Of course. I'll tell him you want to see him and we'll go forwards from there." Grantaire gave Enjolras' hand a final squeeze and then stood from the floor. He pulled Enjolras up with him and guided his friend towards the bed, sitting him down. "I'll be back in a bit, alright? Just… Try to drink something."

Enjolras sniffed softly and watched as Grantaire walked towards the door. "R…" he whispered before his friend could leave the room. "I… I- I'm sorry for what I said to you." He bit his lip and squeezed his hands together in the hope to stop the violent shaking.

"I know that, E… Don't worry about it. I remember me calling you a stuck-up little rich boy among other things when you tried to help me, so I guess we're square." He grinned and then stepped out of the room, leaving Enjolras alone to wait for Courfeyrac.

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( _Thanks for reading! Please leave a message if you liked it._ _)_


	8. Chapter 8

(Hi guys! Sorry this took me so long to update. But I hope you'll like the next chapter. Thanks so much for following and liking this story. It means a lot.)

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"There will be one or two of us with you at all times," Joly told Enjolras quietly, as he scribbled his temperature and heartbeat down on a paper. "We will monitor your condition and keep a close eye on you. Nothing bad is going to happen, remember that. You may feel like you're dying, but you're _not_. You're perfectly safe and you have to keep telling yourself that."

Enjolras swallowed nervously. He was lying in his own bed, surrounded by all his friends. Even Combeferre was there, standing in the far corner. He couldn't quite understand why they were all here; why they were so willing to help him. Grantaire had been right, but Enjolras was still confused. The things he'd said to them…. The things he'd done… how could they forgive that so easily? Did they truly care so much for him that they wanted to help him trough this? And afterwards? Would they stay? Or would they leave him nonetheless?

"I know you're already feeling uncomfortable, but as much as I hate to say it, it's going to get much worse. I'm not saying this to be mean or to scare you… I just want you to be prepared," Joly continued softly, eyes shifting from Enjolras to Grantaire and from Grantaire to Courfeyrac. "I can't tell you exactly what you'll feel, but common withdrawal symptoms include body aches, anxiety, chills, sweating, nausea, dizziness… Much like you have the flu. You'll be tired no doubt, exhausted once this is all over… And you'll say things you don't mean." Joly swallowed, squeezed Enjolras' hand and offered him a small smile. "You'll feel worst the first two to three days to come and then you'll gradually get better."

Enjolras was only listening partially. Joly's voice was drowned out by his own fear and panic. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted to do this. He'd agreed with Grantaire, because he wanted to do good. He wanted to make him proud and it felt good to know that someone still had faith in him. But did Enjolras really want to quit? He didn't know. He wasn't looking forward to the future. It scared him. There was so much to fix; so much to explain. Wouldn't it be much easier to break with his friends and continue his life alone? With only the Oxy as company? He wouldn't bother anyone, then.

"Enjolras?"

He turned his head at the mention of his name and looked at Joly. His friend raised his eyebrows a little and Enjolras knew he had missed a question. With a trembling hand, he wiped at his eyes and then cleared his throat. "S-Sorry… What did you say?"

Joly just smiled and squeezed his hand again. "I asked if there was anything we could get you to make you more comfortable? Is there a certain kind of music you'd like to listen to, or a movie? Maybe a specific type of clothing or a stuffed animal? Anything that makes you feel grounded and safe?"

Enjolras blinked at him as he tried to process the question. Was there anything he wanted close that could make him feel safe? Well there was… Two things actually, but Enjolras was too uncertain to ask them both. His eyes briefly met those of Combeferre and he quickly looked away, afraid of the judgment he might find in there. In the end, Enjolras shook his head. "N-no… there's nothing… Just… J-just Courf."

There was a brief, awkward silence in which Joly glanced at Combeferre , who made sure not to look at anything other than the floor. But before anyone could say something about it, Courfeyrac moved forward and took Enjolras' face in his hands. "I'll be here. I'll be here every step of the way, E. I promise."

Enjolras looked up at his friend and managed a small smile and a quiet 'thank you'. He wished everyone would stop staring at him. Not that he wasn't touched by the fact that apparently, they still cared for him, but he felt extremely looked at and not in a good way. He didn't want their pity or their worry. He felt miserable and all he wanted was to lie in bed and shut the world out. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to cry and he didn't want to fight. He was done with it all and he wanted it to be over with.

"Alright then…," Joly said softly, turning to face the others, scattered around the room. "I think we should give Enjolras a little space. We'll stay here of course, but I think it's best if there are only one or two people in his room. There's no need to make him feel crowded. This is going to be hard enough as it is..." He took Bossuet by the arm and made an example of leaving the room himself.

The others soon followed, some after murmuring a word of comfort to Enjolras. Combeferre and Grantaire were last to leave the room and seemed most hesitant. Combeferre glanced between the bed and the door, in great doubt whether he wanted to stay or go. In the end, he left the room without another word.

Grantaire watched Combeferre go and sighed sadly. Then he walked towards the bed and reached out to squeeze Enjolras' shoulder. The young man already looked horrible: sweaty and shaking. "You'll hang in there, alright," Grantaire said softly. "Remember what we talked about earlier. Remember what you once said to me. You'll get through this and you'll be okay. Courf is going to be here with you all the time and the rest of us will visit you occasionally, alright? Whenever you need us, we're here."

He smiled at Enjolras before turning to Courfeyrac. "Holler when you need us, alright? We'll be right outside."

Courfeyrac swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Before Grantaire could leave the room, however, he stood from the bed and grabbed his friend by the arm. "Keep an eye on 'Ferre for me?" he said quietly, soft enough so that Enjolras couldn't hear. "I'm worried…"

"Course I will," Grantaire offered just as silently. "I'll try to talk to him."

Courfeyrac smiled gratefully and grasped his friend by the shoulder before turning back to Enjolras. Grantaire watched him settle next to the blond on the bed and he knew that, right now, all Enjolras needed was the kind of love and security that only Courfeyrac could offer. The coming days were going to be horrible, but he had no doubt that, with Courfeyrac and all the others at his side, Enjolras would pull through.

Grantaire quietly closed the door behind him and joined the others in the living room.

* * *

The days that followed were hard on everyone. All of the Amis made sure they visited Enjolras' apartment as much as possible. Some of them didn't leave at all, but to all of them, it was torture to watch their strong friend go through something like this. Joly's warnings hadn't been in vain and his fears were far from exaggerated. The Enjolras they saw now, wasn't the Enjolras they had come to known and love. This Enjolras was a broken soul: hurting and in pain. This was an Enjolras not everyone knew how to deal with, because this was an Enjolras they didn't recognize at all.

After Joly and the rest of the Amis left Courfeyrac to tend to Enjolras alone, their friend's condition had deteriorated rapidly. He'd been in constant pain and no matter what position he was in, he couldn't get comfortable. The headaches were the worst. Sometimes, they were so bad; they caused Enjolras to throw up what little he had eaten. His body was constantly wet with sweat and more often than not, he didn't know where he was or what was happening. He'd get confused and cried out for his parents. Sometimes he got mad and kicked out at whoever was closest to him. But most of the time, he clung to Courfeyrac, curling into him as he begged him to make it all stop.

It was a heartbreaking and downright scary thing to behold. And no matter how often Joly told the Amis that whatever Enjolras was going through, it wasn't life threatening, everyone had their doubts. Because Enjolras looked like he was dying and he told them he felt like he was dying too. It was only after four horrible days that Enjolras' fever finally broke and the group of friends let out a unified breath they didn't know they had been holding. According to Joly the worst part was now over. Physically speaking, of course.

When Enjolras blinked his eyes open early morning on the fifth day after the intervention, he felt like a weight was lifted from his chest. The burning pain that had been there for days, was now only a dull ache and no longer was he drenched in sweat. He lay curled up on his side in his own bed, covered with clean blankets and dressed in fresh clothes. He couldn't remember changing himself, so he guessed Courfeyrac and his friends must've done it for him. For a moment, he didn't want to move. The position he was in was too comfortable and he was afraid that the pain would return if he turned around. So he stayed put for a little while longer and closed his eyes once more.

Somehow, he must've fallen asleep again, because when Enjolras opened his eyes for a second time, the room was bright with sunlight and he could hear birds chirping outside. His eyes sought out the clock on his nightstand. It was only 8 AM.

Enjolras stifled a yawn and carefully turned on his back. As he did so, he felt a weight shift right next to him. Courfeyrac was there, on the bed beside him, still fast asleep. Enjolras stared at his friend, a mixture of gratitude and guilt in his eyes. He didn't remember much of the past days, but he remembered his friend. A quiet, but solid rock through it all. He knew that Courfeyrac must've been as exhausted as he was himself.

With a deep sigh, Enjolras tore his gaze away from his friend and stared up at the ceiling. Now what was he going to do? He had to admit; it felt great not to crave the drugs anymore. He still felt weak and a little sick, but it was nothing compared to how he felt in the beginning. On the other hand, all those horrible thoughts that were in his head before he took the drugs were back now. The extreme feeling of failure lay heavily on top of it all. What had he done? How low did he sink? Who was ever going to trust him now? Enjolras closed his eyes and let out a trembling breath. Where did he and Combeferre stand after this? Were they even still friends? Enjolras knew the man had been here the past few days, but he hadn't talked to him. He hadn't said a word of comfort, whereas Enjolras knew all his other friends had. The thought of losing Combeferre as his friend was more painful than anything Enjolras had felt in the past week.

"Morning, sunshine."

The quiet voice brought Enjolras out of his ponderings and he turned his head to see Courfeyrac stare back at him. There was a smile on his friend's face and a great relief in his eyes. "God it's good to see you awake… and lucid."

Enjolras swallowed and averted his eyes.

"Whatever self-loathing thoughts are going around in that head of yours, I want you to stop it right now," Courfeyrac mumbled, pushing himself up on one elbow and looking down at his friend. "Now is not the time… and I don't want to hear it."

Enjolras felt his lips quirk up a little. It didn't really matter what Courfeyrac said or what words he used, his whole being there just made Enjolras feel safe and loved.

"How are you feeling?"

Enjolras swallowed and met Courfeyrac's eyes again. Then he shrugged. "Better, I guess… I no longer feel like I'm dying."

"Well, that's an improvement," Courfeyrac answered, a smile on his face. He reached out and brushed a wayward curl away from Enjolras' face. "I kinda got sick and tired of your moaning and whining." He winked, squeezing Enjolras' shoulder to emphasize the fact that he was joking.

The humor of the joke got lost on Enjolras, however. Tears welled up in his eyes and a lump formed in his throat. "I'm sorry," he whispered. And it was an apology for everything that had happened in the past couple of months.

"Hey," Courfeyrac said, taking both of Enjolras' hands in his own. "None of that now, come on. There's plenty of time for apologies and conversations when you're feeling up to it. But now is not the time. And I don't want to hear it. I don't need apologies or explanations, right now, alright? All I want is for you to feel better… to feel safe."

"D-Don't you have questions?" Enjolras asked, and he hated how weak and insecure he sounded. "A-After everything I've done."

"Of course I have questions, Enjolras. I have a hundred of them. For you, for myself and for our friends. I do," Courfeyrac answered kindly, the same smile still on his face. "But I don't want to ask them right now. I don't want to have heavy conversations or serious talks. You've gone through hell and back; we've all been dead concerned… I just want to enjoy the fact that that's over now and you're here and recognize me again."

Enjolras was quiet for a moment as he thought back on the past couple of days. Apart from the pain and sickness, he could hardly remember anything. Most of it was a blur. "I didn't recognize you?" he asked softly.

Courfeyrac sighed and the smile finally dropped from his face. It hurt to think back on the past days. It had been torture to see his friend go through something like that and not being able to do anything about it. The horrible images of Enjolras writhing around on the bad, crying out for his mother, wouldn't be easy to forget. "Sometimes you didn't, no," Courfeyrac answered softly. "Your temperature was very high and you were ailing for days. Even Joly started to doubt if we shouldn't take you to a hospital after all."

"That bad, huh…" Enjolras mumbled, swallowing thickly. "I didn't know… I-I don't remember much. Just… nightmares, mostly, and pain."

"Yeah, it was pretty bad… And Joly had warned us about it, but it was still scary, man. It was a whole different detox than we'd seen with Grantaire… And I mean, sure, he didn't go cold turkey, but still. His bad days were nothing compared to the state you've been in this past week…" Courfeyrac fell silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he asked: "What do you remember? Apart from the pain?'

Enjolras thought for a moment, searching his mind for moments of clarity in the fog. There wasn't much, but he could recall some bits and pieces. "I remember you being here… I remember holding onto your hand… I believe I remember some of the others in the room. I know R was there at some point, trying to make me laugh… I-uh… I remember Jehan holding back my hair when I threw up…" He fell quiet, remembering every face he had seen. "I… I r-remember almost everyone being there at one point."

Courfeyrac nodded and squeezed Enjolras' hand. He knew what his friend meant and it hurt his heart to know that Enjolras believed not everyone had come to visit him. "Combeferre is here too, E," he said softly. "He hasn't left the apartment once."

"I don't remember him, though." Enjolras replied quietly and it was clear from his voice that he didn't believe Combeferre came to visit him during his detox.

"He was here when you were really out of it. At one point you were so far gone, you were begging for your mum… You were screaming and… Well, it was terrifying to be honest. No one was able to calm you down… No one but 'Ferre. He took you in his arms and he hummed some kind of song and it worked…"

Enjolras frowned, feeling an uneasy feeling creep up his stomach. To hear that he had screamed out for his mother was shocking enough. He did recall doing so, but he figured it must've been some sort of dream or nightmare. He didn't know it was real. "I thought that was a dream… I-I thought I was dreaming that my mother hummed me back to sleep after a nightmare…"

Courfeyrac smiled softly and shook his head. "'t wasn't your mom, though… That was 'Ferre. And he stayed like that with you until whatever hallucination you had, passed."

Enjolras didn't know what to say. He thought Combeferre hated him after all that happened. He'd figured his friend hadn't been there. To hear that he was and that he played a vital part in Enjolras' memories surprised him. "But… H-he should hate me. W-What I did…"

"Well he doesn't," Courfeyrac stated firmly. "And he shouldn't. Combeferre doesn't love you any less than he did before all this happened, E. He's just… hurt. Hurt and confused and scared to death."

"Why is he scared?"

That caused Courfeyrac to laugh. He lets out an incredulous, loud laugh. "Are you kidding me? Why is he scared? Because we nearly lost you, Enjolras! Because we had no idea something like this was happening. Because we _missed_ it and it nearly cost you your life. We missed all the signs, we were careless and we let this happen… And you… You say you feel guilty, E, but so does 'Ferre. So do I… We're practically brothers and me and 'Ferre had no idea something like this was going on. We didn't even know you were struggling. Hell, we didn't even notice anything different about you. We were too busy with each other. Too busy being in love… Too _fucked_ up to realize our friend needed help. If anyone is to blame, it's us. What kind of friends are we?"

Enjolras stared wide-eyed at his friend and watched how the first tears fell. Tears that had been building since Courfyerac first learned what had happened. "C-Courf… that's… t-that's not-"

"No. Don't deny it, Enjolras. You and I both know it's true. I remember now. I remember you came to us that day and you told us you didn't feel that great, which is a big fucking deal for you to admit. And me and 'Ferre, we brushed it off, saying you just needed to take a break for once. For fuck's sake, I told you you'd feel better once you found yourself a boyfriend…"

Enjolras winced internally. He remembered that day very well. It was true; he had come to his friends – after days of debate – to admit that he wasn't feeling well. And it had been a slap in the face to be brushed aside like that. Enjolras never tried to talk to them about it after that. Still though, whatever happened since wasn't their doing. "Courf… Neither you nor 'Ferre nor anyone else besides me is responsible for the choices I made. I was the weak one. I was the one who chose not to fight. I was the one who chose those pills and I was the one who betrayed Combeferre."

Courfeyrac shook his head and dug the heels of his hands against his eyes to stop the flow of tears. "Whatever… E… I don't… I didn't want to do this now. I still don't want to do this now. We're going to talk about this, probably more than anyone of us feels comfortable with, but we aren't going to do that now. Your fever only broke last night and you're exhausted and weak and your mind doesn't need this kind of stress right now. We can do this later."

"I'm sorry…" Enjolras whispered again. He felt horrible to be responsible for those tears on Courfeyrac's cheeks. He didn't want to be the reason why his friends were scared or hurt. He had screwed up so much this past year and he was sick of it. He wanted to be better.

"No… N-No don't apologize," Courfeyrac said softly, gathering Enjolras in his arms. He pulled the covers over them both, blocking out the bright sunlight that seemed way too cheerful right now. "I don't want you to apologize to me about this. Not ever."

Enjolras was quiet for a moment. Then he curled against his friend, like he had done so many times in the past few days, and nodded. It wasn't hard for him to see what this week had done to Courfeyrac. How scared he had been. Maybe now it was time for Enjolras to make some amends; to try and do something right; to take Courfeyrac's fear away, if only for a while and be the one who brought comfort for once. "What do you want to do, then?" he asked softly.

"I just wanna lie here for a while," Courfeyrac muttered. "I wanna hide under the covers with you, like we did when we were children and talk about the good old days. I want to forget about all of this for a while and pretend nothing happened. And then I want to sleep some more."

A small smile graced Enjolras' lips and he nodded. He pressed a hesitant kiss against Courfeyrac's temple and closed his eyes. "Alright… w-we can do that. I'd like that too."

TBC.

* * *

(Hope you liked it, please let me know if you did.)


	9. Chapter 9

"Ferre, it's been three days… Don't you think it's time you went in and talked to him?" Courfeyrac eyed his boyfriend critically, leaning against the post of the kitchen door. He crossed his arms when Combeferre didn't respond and sighed. "I get that this is difficult, I do… And I understand that you need time to get over what he did to you… But-… But 'Ferre, there's only so much I can do to convince him you don't hate him. I start to sound like a broken record by now."

"I don't hate him," Combeferre said, not looking up from the magazine he pretended to read. He too sounded like a broken record, because he'd said those exact words a dozen times by now. And Combeferre knew that his friends were annoyed with him. He knew that they thought it ridiculous that he still hadn't gone in to see Enjolras. But it was too hard. It was too soon.

"I know that," Courfeyrac said quietly, walking up to the kitchen table. He sat down in front of his boyfriend and took the magazine away from him. "I know you love him and I know you still think of him as your best friend. I know you're scared shitless and I know you're beating yourself up over not noticing anything was wrong. I _know_ 'Ferre. And yet you still haven't gone in there to see him…" He sighed and reached out to take the man's hand. "Why haven't you?"

Combeferre pulled his hand out of Courfeyrac's grasp and crossed his arms over his chest as he sat back. "I can't…," he answered softly and it was a stupid reply, he knew that.

"Why not?" Courfeyrac pressed, doing his best to keep his voice leveled. He didn't want to be upset with his boyfriend. He understood why Combeferre was mad, why he felt betrayed. But at the same time, they had a best friend who desperately needed their help. Both of their help. Without Combeferre's support, Courfeyrac wasn't sure Enjolras even had the will to be fixed. "You went in there when he was delirious, didn't you? You hummed him back to sleep, for God's sake."

"That was different," Combeferre replied softly.

"In what sense was that different? Because he was too out of it to notice it was you? Because there was a big chance he wouldn't remember? Well, news flash, 'Ferre, he remembers, okay? He remembers and it hurts like hell that you'd come when he's unconscious but not when he's awake. What kind of message do you think that sends him?"

Combeferre narrowed his eyes at Courfeyrac. "Well, don't you think what he did hurt like hell as well? I'm risking a permanent removal from my intership, Courf. Plus, this goes on my record… It's illegal."

"Of course it hurt, and what he did was horrible and wrong and you have every right to be angry with him for that…" Courfeyrac said kindly. "But what are you trying to say here, that you won't visit him as some kind of payback? Come on, 'Ferre, that's not you."

Combeferre sighed and pulled a hand over his face. He was tired. Ever since he first learned about the news, he had a hard time sleeping. He was terribly confused, feeling guilty, scared and angry as well. And none of his emotions felt justified. When he felt angry, he felt guilty for being angry in the first place, because if he'd just paid better attention, then Enjolras might have never copied his signature. When he felt guilty, he got angry, because why on earth should he feel guilty for the stupid mistakes Enjolras made? And when he felt scared, it confused him even more. Because what did this all mean? What had happened for someone like Enjolras to choose a path like this? He looked at his boyfriend, feeling the tears well in his eyes.

"I'm afraid to see him," Combeferre admitted finally.

Courfeyrac stood from his seat opposite of his boyfriend and instead sat down next to him. He draped an arm over Combeferre's shoulders and pressed a sweet kiss against his temple. "Why are you afraid to see him?" he asked softly, after a moment of comfort.

"Because… B-Because my emotions are all over the place and I'm afraid that me being there will only make him worse. What if I yell at him? Or say something I don't mean? What if I push him even further away?" Combeferre rubbed at his eyes, biting his lip in a futile attempt to stop it from trembling. "He c-came to us, Courf… He came and we p-pushed him a-aside. J-Just like that…. A-And I feel so terribly guilty f-for that, b-but at the same time I'm so a-angry… And I'm scared I'll only make things w-worse if I go in. He doesn't anymore crap on top of the guilt he's already feeling…"

It made sense. Courfeyrac couldn't say taht he didn't share those exacts feelings. He too was scared and felt guilty. The difference was, that he didn't hold that anger that Combeferre had and because of that, he'd been able tob e there for Enjolras the moment he'd agreed to do the detox. He understood how it served as an obstacle for his boyfriend. However, he knew for a fact that Combeferre wouldn't make things worse. On the contrary.

"I understand," Courfeyrac answered after a moment. He sighed softly, rubbing Combeferre's shoulder. "But you're wrong, you know. You won't make things worse and you won't say things you don't mean. You won't, 'Ferre. Because you are you and you're a good person. You are incredibly kind and understanding and patient and just. I understand you're afraid of getting angry and pushing him away, but trust me when I say that you won't."

Combeferre just shrugged, clearly not convinced.

"Look… At this point all Enjolras needs is a shitload of comfort and support. He doesn't need heavy conversations and he doesn't need guilt-trips. Not from us and not for himself either. All he basically wants is someone he can curl up against and watch stupid TV shows with. So if it is the talks you're afraid of, or the reasons for why he did what he did, you can stop. He's too weak and too sick for that right now. And once you'll see him, I'm sure you won't feel like acting on any anger you might feel."

"If he just needs someone to comfort him, why do you insist of me going in there? You're much better at the comforting stuff than I am," Combeferre replied stubbornly.

Courfeyrac chuckled softly and shook his head. "Maybe I am in many situations, but not with Enjolras, 'Ferre. The two of us are close as brothers, but he shares something deeper with you. You've seen him at his weakest and you were able to pull him out. It's no coincidence you were the only one who could calm him down when he was that delirious…" He brushed a strand of hair behind Combeferre's ear. "Besides… Enjolras can't really find any comfort with anyone as long as he believes his best friend hates him."

"I _don't_ hate him!" Combeferre snapped suddenly, cursing the tears that spilled over his cheeks.

But Courfeyrac wasn't swayed by his boyfriend's outburst. "Then _tell_ him that. Better yet, _show_ him. Me and R and the others can say it as much as we want, but there's only one person he's going to believe it from. 'Ferre, you and I both know you want to go in there. The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be…"

In Enjolras' tiny kitchen, the clock slowly ticked away another minute. The couple sat in a comfortable silence for a while. Courfeyrac had said what he wanted to say and he didn't want to push his boyfriend more than that. In the end, Combeferre had to go see Enjolras because he wanted to, not because he felt forced. And righ now, his boyfriend was in deep thought. Probably considering all the pros and cons and Courfeyrac didn't want to disturb him.

"Who's with him now?" Combeferre finally asked in a quiet voice.

"Grantaire is," Courfeyrac answered, squeezing Combeferre's hand. "And despite the fact that he's practically glued to Enjolras' side, he's more than happy to give you his spot so you and E can have some privacy."

Combeferre nodded ever so slightly, keeping his eyes focused on the tabletop. "He's a good friend, isn't he? He's the only one who figured out something was wrong… If he hadn't… I-" He didn't finish his sentence. It hurt to think about how much worse this whole thing could've ended.

"R is an amazing friend, yes," Courfeyrac agreed, turning Combeferre's chin so that he could look at him. "But so are we… We were just too caught up with each other and… A-and that was wrong, but that doesn't make us lesser friends… It's just… They always say love makes you blind, right? Maybe in our case it made us blind to our best friend's needs. But we got a wake-up call and a sincere one at that. Let's do it right this time?"

Combeferre took a shaky breath and looked his boyfriend in the eyes. It took him another second, but then he was nodding. Yes, they would do it right from now on.

* * *

"Are you sure there's nothing special you want to watch?" Grantaire asked a tired Enjolras, who was curled against his chest; a lost expression in his eyes. "You've got all these interesting documentary's you always tell me I should see… Maybe we can put one on? Or we could just watch the news…" He glanced at the television, frowning at the home selling program that was on. "Anything's better than this, I'm sure."

Enjolras simply shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes. He couldn't care less about what was on the television. He and Courfeyrac had been watching Pokemon in the morning and Enjolras was just too lazy to shut the TV off afterwards. In all honesty, he really just wanted to sleep, but he felt too restless to do so. There was so much going on in his head. He couldn't escape the horrible thoughts he was thinking. It was nice to have Grantaire around, or Courfeyrac, or any of the others, but Enjolras never found real comfort in their company. He was too far gone inside his own head; thinking about the past months, the past year, the mistakes he made, the failures, the guilt.

Grantaire watched his friend for a moment. With a sigh, he switched off the TV and shifted a little so that Enjolras was more comfortable. "Alright then," he murmured quietly. "We can just… lay here for a bit, I guess. Just let me know if there's anything I can get you… Or if you want to talk…. I'm here if you need me."

All Enjolras did was squeeze Grantaire's hand briefly in return.

Grantaire let out another deep breath and turned his gaze up towards the ceiling. He had hoped that once Enjolras had gone through his detox, things would start to look up, but in truth, everything was a horrible mess. They still didn't know why Enjolras choose to take the drugs in the first place, though Grantaire had a hunch. Despite the fact that the worst was over, Enjolras was still feeling sick and weak and according to Joly, he could feel that way for a little while. On top of that, Enjolras and Combeferre were still at odds and that was just not right. That was the thing that weighed most upon the group of friends. It was so clear for all to see that Enjolras desperately needed Combeferre by his side. On the other hand, no one blamed the medical student for his hesitation after learning what Enjolras did. Sure, they knew Combeferre still loved his best friend, but that deep trust that they shared was wounded now. And it needed time to get fixed. Grantaire just hoped that one day, everything would return to normal.

There was a time when he would've been amazed to have Enjolras lie in his arms like this. If it had happened on any other occasion, Grantaire probably wouldn't have believed his own eyes. But right now, he couldn't be happy about it. It only saddened him that his fierce friend had fallen so far down that he resembled nothing more than a frightened young boy, insecure and unhappy. Still though, no matter the circumstances, Grantaire was going to be there for him. He would hold Enjolras as close as the man wanted. And he wouldn't look for any other meaning behind it other than that his friend needed the safety of another man's arms.

"How'd you know?"

Enjolras' soft voice brought Grantaire out of his ponderings and he looked back down at the mop of curly hair. "How did I know what?"

He could feel Enjolras swallow against his chest. "H-How'd you know I was using something…?"

Grantaire was quiet for a moment. He hadn't known for sure for a very long time. At first, he hadn't thought anything wrong, just like the rest of his friends. Enjolras was very good at hiding it and for weeks, he hadn't suspected a thing. "I didn't know for certain until 'Ferre called me after he visited you…"

At the mention of Combeferre's name, Enjolras tensed. He stayed silent, however, and Grantaire figured he'd best continue.

"But I had suspected for a little while before that… I-… Look, E, I'm not a stranger to these things, as you very well know. I know what it does to people. And sure alcohol isn't the same as pills, but there are always the same signals, you know. With you I first noticed your trembling hands… I mean, you always have a very steady hand, but now you dropped things and you spilled coffee and stuff… I don't know, something just told me it wasn't right. So I started paying attention to you and I noticed more things that were out of place, you know… You got snappy very quickly… you avoided talk about your work… You tried to get out of as many dates with our friends as possible… You looked even more tired than you normally do…."

Grantaire fell quiet and thought back to the past few weeks. "I didn't know for sure until Combeferre came to talk to you, but I had a really bad feeling about it when you and I fought that night, remember? I confronted you about your behavior and I asked you if there was anything wrong… And you just… Downright flipped on me. You panicked and you cursed and you screamed and it was just so…. So unlike you…"

Next to him, he could feel a tremor go trough the smaller body and he swallowed. He didn't want to upset the man. Courfeyrac told him "no heavy conversations". Had he screwed up already?

But when Enjolras spoke, his voice was clear and honest. "Thank you."

"What?" Grantaire breathed, heart skipping a beat.

"I said thank you," Enjolras repeated, turning his head a little so he could look at Grntaire. "I… I know there's a lot more to say and I know that I'm probably going to have to talk about all of this eventually, but for now I just want to say thank you. Thank you for noticing what was wrong… For confronting me about it… For going to our friends. I know I was a real dick to you earlier, but I wasn't in a good place as you very well know. I'm still not in a good place, but at least now I can think clearly again. I no longer feel like I'm stuck, with no way out… And that's thanks to you. Because if you hadn't stepped up, I'm not sure how things would've ended. And I'm grateful that you refused to let it come that far."

Grantaire was at a loss for words.

"You don't have to say anything," Enjolras whispered, breaking the silence once more. "Just know that I'm grateful and that I'm deeply sorry for the things I said to you. I didn't mean them. And I hope you know how much I appreciate and value your friendship."

Again, Grantaire was dumbstruck. He opened his mouth, but he had no words to say. Instead, he brought both his arms up and curled them around Enjolras' frame. This was their first hug ever. On a bed for God's sake. And there wasn't anything happy about it. Grantaire wanted to cry, but he didn't. All he did was tighten his hold around Enjolras and press a soft kiss on top of his curls. "Don't thank me," he finally choked out, voice constricted. "Don't thank me, E… Just… J-Just get better, alright?"

Underneath his chin, he could feel Enjolras nod and that brought a small smile to his face. Because even that tiny, little nod told him that everything was not lost yet. There was still fight in Enjolras. And as long as they could keep that spark of fire alive, Grantaire was sure things could be fixed.

And then maybe, just maybe, he would finally find the courage to ask Enjolras out sometimes.

* * *

Grantaire didn't know how long he and Enjolras lay that close together. At one point, he heard Enjolras' breathing even out and he knew the man had fallen asleep. His gaze returned to the ceiling once more before his own eyes fell closed. If they weren't watching TV and if they weren't talking, he might as well get some much needed sleep himself. He figured it wouldn't be hard, with the warm weight of his friend safe against his chest.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard the door of the bedroom open. Grantaire peeked through one eye, expecting Courfeyrac to return from his talk with Combeferre. It wasn't Courfeyrac standing in the doorway, however. Grantaire opened both of his eyes and carefully sat up a little straighter. Enjolras stirred in his sleep, but didn't wake.

"Hi, R," Combeferre whispered quietly. He wasn't looking at Grantaire however. His eyes were fixed on the blond figure sleeping next to him.

"'Ferre…," Grantaire breathed. He was extremely relieved to finally see his friend in the same room as Enjolras after all these days. A closer look told him Combeferre was nervous as hell, biting the inside of his cheek and clenching his fists at his side. The man didn't look comfortable at all and for a moment Grantaire wondered if he even wanted to be here.

"Can I…," Combeferre muttered, looking from Enjolras to Grantaire and back. "C-Can I have some time alone with Enjolras?"

There was no hesitation in Grantaire's movements as he nodded his head and gently squeezed Enjolras' shoulders to wake him up. It took some time to coax his friend back to consciousness, but Combeferre remained patiently waiting by the door. Grantaire wondered if it was out of decency or just plain nerves. It didn't really matter though. What mattered was that the man finally came to see Enjolras and Grantaire was certain that this was the start of some improvement at last.

"Enjolras," he whispered softly, as he carefully pushed the younger man away from his chest. "E, come on, wake up. There's someone here to see you…"

Enjolras grumbled something unintelligible, but opened his eyes nonetheless. When he did, he looked directly at the man standing in the doorway and his heart skipped a beat.

"Hey, E…"

TBC.


	10. Chapter 10

Enjolras stared at Combeferre for a moment, wondering if he was still dreaming. Despite what all his friends said, Enjolras hadn't believed Combeferre was still in his apartment and he definitely hadn't expected to see his friend in his room. Enjolras was so certain that Combeferre despised him after what he did. He was so sure that their friendship was too far broken. No matter what Courfeyrac told him, or Grantaire, or any of the others, Enjolras had been sure that he and Combeferre were no longer friends. He ruined their friendship. He had broken their trust.

And yet… There he was. In the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It was plain clear that Combeferre was nervous as hell and didn't feel comfortable at all. But he was still there, looking at Enjolras and talking to him.

"Hey, E…," Combeferre said quietly, his eyes meeting those of his friend for the first time since more than a week. It felt strange, but at the same time very natural to be here. Courfeyrac told him that once he'd see Enjolras, he wouldn't feel angry anymore. Or at least, not that angry that he would lash out at his friend. Combeferre was very doubtful at first, but now that he was here, he had to admit that Courfeyrac was right. Seeing Enjolras, small and pale on the bed, did all kinds of things to Combeferre, but he didn't feel angry. Not at all. He was sad, confused and worried. And most of all, he felt an immense desire to take his friend in his arms and protect him from all that was bad in the world.

But at the same time, he felt awkward and distant. He might not feel angry, but things were different now. Combeferre had been hurt by Enjolras and he couldn't just forget that. He couldn't just brush it aside.

When Enjolras didn't respond, but just stared back at him, Combeferre cleared his throat and took one step further into the room. "D'you think you and I-uh… can t-talk for a bit?"

Enjolras opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but no sound came out. Instead, he glanced at Grantaire and nodded his head very slowly. Grantaire offered Enjolras a small smile and squeezed his shoulder. Then he stood from the bed and walked towards the door.

"It's good of you to come, 'Ferre," Grantaire said softly, nodding his head at Combeferre. "I know he's been wanting to talk to you. Courf and I will be right outside if you need anything, alright?"

Combeferre's eyes never left Enjolras. His gaze was fixed on his best friend, who looked just as nervous and uncomfortable as he felt. When Grantaire nudged his shoulder, he nodded absentmindedly. "We'll be okay," he said, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders when he realised that that was what he truly believed. They would be alright. He briefly looked up at Grantaire and gave him a small smile.

With that, Grantaire left the room, glancing behind him just in time to see Combeferre take another step into Enjolras' direction. He wasn't sure if everything was going to be okay after this, but at least something was happening now. Both Grantaire and Courfeyrac were growing tired of convincing Enjolras that Combeferre was still his friend. Now that Combeferre made the effort to come and talk to his friend, Grantaire was sure things would start to look up.

* * *

Once Grantaire walked out of the door, the room was left in silence. Enjolras no longer looked at Combeferre, but cast his eyes downwards. He was afraid of what he might see in his best friend's eyes. Now that Grantaire was no longer there to keep the peace, what would happen? Would Combeferre yell at him? Would he cry or curse? Did he come to tell him that he never wanted to see him again? That he couldn't trust him? Enjolras' heart beat rapidly inside his chest. He'd been wanting to talk to Combeferre for so long, but now that his friend was here, he was terrified.

Combeferre, however, was still looking at Enjolras and he noticed the discomfort his friend was in. He knew Enjolras to the core and could read every emotion, every feeling, every desire. It was clear to him that his friend was nervous. Scared even. And he knew that he was going to have to take the first step if he wantedt his conversation to happen.

"Well…," he started, clearing his throat to get Enjolras' attention. "This sucks, doesn't it?"

What happened next nearly broke Combeferre's heart. He only meant to make a light joke, a stupid thing to break the tension between them. But though it had the desired effect of Enjolras looking up at him, the reaction wasn't what Combeferre was hoping for. His friend let out something between a laugh and a sob. Then he buried his face behind his hands and started crying.

Without hesitation, Combeferre crossed the distance between them. He sat down on the bed and gathered Enjolras in his arms. Immediately, Enjolras' arms curled around him and held on tight. Desperate even. As if he feared that Combeferre would slip from his fingers if he didn't hang on to him.

Then the apologies came. A hundred of them. Sorry after sorry tumbled from Enjolras' lips until he was nothing more than a sobbing, sorry-blabbering mess. Combeferre bit his own lip as he felt his best friend tremble and cry against his chest. He looked to the ceiling as tears of his own filled his eyes. This situation was all kinds of messed up. How did it get so bad? How had he not noticed his friend was in such deep trouble? How had Enjolras not found the courage to talk to him or Courfeyrac? These were questions Combeferre asked himself every second of every day.

He bit his lip when it started to tremble. In order not to break down completely, Combeferre took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. He bowed his head and pressed a soft kiss against the golden curls. Enjolras was still whispering through hiccups and hitching breaths, but Combeferre couldn't understand a word of it. He knew though that they were still apologies. He could practically feel the guilt and shame radiate off of him. And suddenly Combeferre felt horrible for not coming in sooner. For leaving Enjolras like this days on end, thinking that Combeferre hated him. He should've gone in immediately. He should've held his friend and tell him that they would be fine; that they would fix it. But Combeferre had waited. Waited for days and then a bit longer. And now that was just another thing to pile on top of all the things he'd done wrong already.

Enjolras' nails dug into his back and Combeferre knew his shirt was damp from his friend's tears. He let out a soft sigh and rested his chin on top of Enjolras' mop of hair. His hands rubbed back and forth in a comforting matter, hoping to calm his friend down at least a little so that they could talk. Not that he knew what to say. What was there to say? Everything was just so screwed up.

All Combeferre really wanted to do was to tell Enjolras that "it was okay." That they were fine and that everything would solve itself in the end. But it wasn't that easy and Combeferre knew it. He no longer felt anger towards his friend, but what happened between them wasn't something that could easily be forgotten. Enjolras had hurt Combeferre by betraying him in a horrible way and though he wasn't angry, it still hurt. And Enjolras knew exactly how much he had hurt his friend; knew what he did wasn't something that could be easily fixed. And so saying things like "it's okay" or "we're fine", wasn't going to cut it. For neither of them. They were empty words now and that made this whole thing all the harder.

But Combeferre wanted to say something. He had to. He came in here to make things right, to talk to his friend, to make them both feel better. This had to be the start, because if it didn't happen now, then when? And if he didn't make the first step, then who? Enjolras was far too ashamed and depressed to reach out first. It had to be him.

"Shh," Combeferre murmured, feeling a little foolish for making the sound. But he accompanied the soothing noise with another kiss against Enjolras' temple. "I'm here now, E," he added. "I'm here now… I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Enjolras tensed in Combeferre's hold, but didn't stop crying. All he did was repeat apology after apology. He felt like a broken record, but he didn't know what else to say. What else was there for him to say? What he had done to Combeferre was horrible and "sorry" didn't quite cut it. Still though, it was the only thing Enjolras could think of saying right now. He was afraid to say anything else, because now he had Combeferre in his arms and he was terrified that his friend would leave the moment he loosened his hold. Enjolras was so far gone, he didn't even hear Combeferre talk.

Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose and wiped at the wetness in his eyes. The man in his arms was bordering on a panic attack and that was the last thing either of them needed. He loosened his grip on Enjolras' shoulders and gently pried Enjolras' arms away from him. That elicited another sob from Enjolras' throat and the smaller man curled his fists in the fabric of Combeferre's shirt in an attempt to keep his friend close.  
Still, Combeferre was stronger and he pulled Enjolras' arms away, but didn't let go of his hands.

"No, no, no, 'Ferre… please, don't go, don't leave. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please…" Enjolras babbled, face tear-stained and red from exertion. He did his best to get close to Combeferre again, but his friend kept him at a small distance, "Please?" Enjolras whispered again, voice breaking.

Combeferre's heart ached for his friend, who sounded like glass shattering all over the floor. It wasn't right. He reached out and lifted Enjolras chin, so that he could look his friend in the eyes. At first Enjolras' gaze was focused on anything but Combeferre, but after softly calling his name, Enjolras finally met his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here." Combeferre said again, slower this time. He squeezed one of Enjolras' hands to emphasize his point. "I'm here, E… I'm staying here with you, alright? I'm not… I- I'm not angry with you…"

Enjolras shook his head and tried to wrench his chin away from Combeferre's hold. "No, no, no, you are angry, you should hate me! I hate myself for what I did to you. You need to be angry…"

"I don't hate you." Combeferre stated firmly. "You hear me, Enjolras? I don't hate you. I never could, no matter what happened. You're like my baby brother, how could I ever hate you? Don't say things like that. Don't even think things like that."

Enjolras just shook his head, another sob escaped from his throat.

"And I'm not angry with you," Combeferre continued softly, carding a hand through the blonde curls. "I was… But I'm not anymore. I'm just worried and scared… And I'm hurt… And this whole situation sucks more than I can describe… But I'm here, Enjolras. I'm here and I'm not leaving anymore, because I love you so fucking much. You hear me? I love you and I can't lose you. Ever."

"I betrayed you," Enjolras whispered. "I hurt you."

Combeferre sighed. He brought his hand to the nape of Enjolras' neck and squeezed. "Yes, you hurt me. A lot. And… everything's not okay. But you're not the only one at fault here, E… What you did was wrong and I can't just forget that… But I know that for you to do something like that, you must've been really desperate. And the fact that you didn't come to me or Courf scares the hell out of me. I know that's because we weren't there for you when you needed us and that hurts more than any fake signature you might have written. Things are screwed up right now, but we'll fix it. I know we can. We have to. Because you're my little brother and I need things to be okay between us. I need you to be smiling. I need you to share your feelings with me. I need you to trust me…"

When more tears fell from Enjolras' eyes, Combeferre thumbed them away with a small smile. "It's always been me and you till the end, right? That's still us. There's no me if there is no you." He fell silent for a moment and kept his eyes locked with those of Enjolras. "I don't hate you, mon ami. I don't."

Enjolras sniffed but gave a small, watery smile and nodded. He knew Combeferre and he could tell when his friend was being honest and sincere. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. It was an apology for everything that had happened in the last few months. For lying and for cheating, but also for not confiding in his friends and for feeling depressed in the first place.

"I know," Combeferre said. "And I'm sorry too."

When Enjolras shook his head and tried to counter that, Combeferre placed his hand over Enjolras' mouth and gave him a stern look. "I am sorry," he repeated. "I'm sorry for being blind, for not noticing anything… For not being there for you when you needed me."

Enjolras closed his eyes for a moment. He was finally calming down and the tears no longer blurred his vision. Tentivaly, he reached out for Combeferre's hand. When his friend didn't pull away, he entwined their fingers. "We'll be okay?" he spoke quietly, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"We'll be okay," Combeferre replied, squeezing Enjolras' hand in return.

The younger man opened his eyes again and looked at his friend. He felt far from okay, but for the first time in a long time, he could think clearly again. And right now there was only one thing on his mind. One thing that he wanted Combeferre to know. One thing that could maybe put this whole thing behind them. "I promise that as soon as I'm able to leave this bed, I'll turn myself in, 'Ferre. I'll go to your supervisor and I'll tell him everything. I'd call him right now if I had his number. I swear that I won't let you lose your job over this. I swear it. I don't care the consequences. I don't care if it'll go on my record, or if they tell my father, or if I'll go to jail… I just… I'm going to make this right, I promise."

Combeferre looked at his friend with a small, slightly amused smile on his face. It had been a while since he had seen such passion in Enjolras' eyes. Such fire and conviction. It only hurt that the cause of that passion was something so sad. Combeferre didn't know how to feel or what to say. He was grateful that Enjolras wanted to turn himself in. He also thought it was the right thing to do and he didn't want to lose his job over a mistake Enjolras made. On the other hand, he didn't want this to go on Enjolras' record. He didn't want his friend to suffer even more, while he knew that the reason for copying his signature had to be problematic. He just wished there was a way out of this without hurting either of them.

"I know you will," Combeferre spoke softly. "Once you put your mind to something, you won't stop until you've reached your goal… Just… I don't want this to ruin your future. If this goes on your record and becomes public, you can forget about any big law firms or politics."

"I don't care," Enjolras countered at once.

"Well, I do." Combeferre sighed and shook his head. "I do care, Enjolras. You've got a bright future ahead of you… I don't want you to throw that away because of a mistake… no matter how painful it is."

Enjolras scoffed at the word 'mistake'. "I won't have you lose your job, your future, because of me, Combeferre."

"No, I know," Combeferre said. "Just… Let's not rush this, alright? The investigation is still going, we don't know what they'll find… Let's just wait until I know more. My supervisor promised to keep me posted and he believed in my innocence, so who knows… Maybe we can work something out."

There was silence for a moment. Combeferre looked at Enjolras and watched how his friend bit the inside of his cheek. A habit he picked up as a child whenever he was frustrated but didn't know how to express himself. Combeferre could practically hear the tiny motors in Enjolras' head.

"I really need to make this right, Combeferre," Enjolras said at last.

The medical student nodded. "I know that. And I'll let you fix it. I just want us to wait a little longer. I don't want you to make things harder for yourself than they have to be."

Combeferre kept eyecontact with his friend until Enjolras sighed and nodded. His shoulders slumped and the younger boy looked truly defeated. Only then did it hit Combeferre how little there was left of the Enjolras that stood proud and tall in front of masses. This Enjolras looked young and insecure. Like the boy he guided through high school. The boy who cried in a bathroom stall when bullies took his lunch money. The boy who once got so depressed, he took a knife to his wrists.

Thinking about that particular hard moment in time, made Combeferre shiver and he reached out once more to take Enjolras in his arms. Together they laid down on the bed. In silence. Drawing comfort from each others presence, like they had done so very often in their lives.

Enjolras lay with his eyes closed curled up against Combeferre's chest. He felt like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. Though he and Combeferre weren't all okay, he knew that his older friend still loved him and cared for him. Despite everything that happened he hadn't lost his best friend. And Enjolras couldn't be more grateful. To lie here, in the safety of Combeferre's arms, was all that he needed right now.

Combeferre stared up at the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular. His fingers thoughtlessly traced the skin of Enjolras' arms, until they came to rest on his friend's forearm. The older man took a deep breath and looked down, eyes ghosting over the white scares on Enjolras' skin. Some barely visible, some protrudent. He could feel Enjolras tense birefly against his chest and then his blue eyes turned upwards to meet those of Combeferre.

"I didn't go down that path again," Enjolras said, reading the question in Combeferre's eyes. "I thought about it… I was tempted… I almost bought a new razor, but I didn't. I couldn't. Somehow that felt like an even bigger betrayal of our friendship."

Combeferre brought Enjolras' wrist to his lips and gently kissed the damaged skin. "Will you talk to me?" he asked. "Will you tell me?"

Enjolras averted his eyes. He was silent for a moment and took a deep breath. Then, very quielty, he said: "yeah."

TBC.


End file.
